


Make Your Home With Me In My Arms

by wardo_wedidit



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Baking, Break Up, Character Bleed, Domestic, Filming, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Literary References & Allusions, Living Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Character Death, Multi, Musical References, Past Relationship(s), Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:31:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, <i>5 times they shared a house + 1 time they made a home</i>.   Moments and memories from the times Andrew and Jesse have lived together over the development of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Your Home With Me In My Arms

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SO NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS LONG. This really just started because Sandra wanted me to write something heartbreaking and so I did but then I needed cheering up and had this hazy half-remembered kinkmeme prompt lurking in the back of my mind? I really just intended about 2k of happiness and then would call it a night. Thing escalated, obviously. 
> 
> (And because of all that, this is un-beta’d. Ha. HAH. Laughing so I don’t cry. Please message me mistakes if/when you find them?)
> 
> Links to the fanmix can be found [here](http://wardowedidit.tumblr.com/post/56451486032/make-your-home-with-me-in-my-arms-fic-mix).

_1._

It’s always a little bit awkward, really, to be forced into a living situation with someone without really knowing them beforehand. It’s even stranger when you’re working with that person more or less every day, even _weirder_ when you’re shooting a movie in which you play best friends and then one of you breaks the other’s heart. 

But somehow, Andrew makes it _not_ be awkward. He did right from the start, trooping in and turning down Jesse’s offered handshake in favor of a warm hug, startling a laugh out of Jesse. Andrew wormed his way right into Jesse’s life, their friendship sneaking up on him. 

He thinks maybe it’s because they’re practically the only two people they know in Boston, but somehow they are in-sync for the start, in so many ways. Everything just seems to fall right into place, from the big things to the smallest... They can talk for hours about the script, debating the finer points of Mark and Eduardo from completely different perspectives and then somehow managing to come to some sort of agreement by the end. In the car rides to rehearsal they talk about poetry and music and plays and their opinions are so in line with each other that Jesse is genuinely thrown by it. Andrew is trying to learn to cook, so Jesse gives him some of his favorite vegetarian recipes and he always enjoys them, even though sometimes he needs Jesse’s help, (and even with _that_ it comes out just a bit burnt). Even down to the _littlest_ things, honestly--they have their bathroom routine down to a science in no time, brushing their teeth at the sink and hip-checking each other playfully as Andrew sings “One Day More” from _Les Miserables_ , words obscured by foamy toothpaste as he attempts to do _all_ the parts, making Jesse laugh as he elbows him to chime in. 

That’s not unusual though; sometimes it seems like Andrew’s highest priority to make Jesse laugh. He gets this quietly proud sort of expression on his face after he does it, a look Jesse only ever sees for a moment before Andrew casts his gaze downward, like he’s embarrassed about it. It is in these moments that Jesse somehow feels like he doesn’t deserve any of it. 

It all comes back to this weird pull of chemistry that is always between them that Jesse can’t explain. It’s the safe kind, of course: Jesse and Anna have been together forever and their relationship is rock-solid; besides, Andrew has a lovely girlfriend named Shannon that Jesse met once in passing. But anyway, she seemed sweet and bubbly and adorable, and Andrew seems very happy when he’s with her. 

Somehow neither of them really talk to their girlfriends all that much when they’re together, though. It’s certainly not on purpose, but Jesse keeps forgetting to call and he knows for a fact that Andrew has missed more than a couple scheduled Skype dates with Shannon. Honestly, he doesn’t know how it happens, but it does. Not that it means anything. 

He’s pretty sure it’s all got to do with this weird, tense undercurrent of Mark and Eduardo. Andrew warned him at the beginning of this whole thing that he can get kind of intense character bleed, and so that’s the explanation that Jesse chooses to take. Even though they’re only in rehearsals at this point, they can already both tell that this could be rough, living together and dealing with the tangled web of emotions and complex connections that is Mark and Eduardo. Just, messy. 

The night before shooting starts they’re both an absolute jumble of stress. Everything in the apartment just seems like it’s dripping with tension, and so they both end up heading to bed early instead of hanging out like they normally which usually means watching a movie that Andrew loves but Jesse has never seen (which is helpful because then Andrew can explain it to him), or teaming up to work on the paper’s crossword puzzle (Jesse’s good at the synonym clues; Andrew’s good at the pop culture ones). 

But Jesse can’t sleep. 

It’s frustrating because he knows he’s going to need all the energy he can get for tomorrow, but somehow nothing works. And then, at about one in the morning, he hears clanging coming from what sounds like the kitchen. 

He rubs his eyes and gets up, padding out to find out what the hell is going on, and what does he find but Andrew, crouched over and half-hidden behind the door of the fridge. 

Andrew pulls out the honey and closes the refrigerator door behind him and then turns, sees Jesse, and winces. 

“Sorry,” he whispers (which is silly, since they are both clearly very awake now). “Am I keeping you up?”

“No,” Jesse replies at a normal volume, “I just--can’t sleep.” Andrew does this thing he always does, where he sort of just _waits_ for Jesse to continue with the most earnest patience. Jesse appreciates it an unbelievable amount; he doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone else who has ever done that in exactly the same way before. “I think I’m nervous about tomorrow, you know.”

Andrew laughs humorlessly, setting the honey on the counter and pulling out a measuring cup. “Tell me about it,” he says as he pours. “Um, I’m.” He cuts himself off, turning to face Jesse. “I’m sort of a stress baker,” he admits, looking a little embarrassed, blushing just a tiny bit in the darkened kitchen. 

Jesse bites down on a smile because this is clearly not something Andrew is proud of and it must be hard for him to admit, but Jesse can’t help but find the whole thing _entirely adorable_. 

“Don’t _laugh_ ,” Andrew whines, a smile winning out over his features even as he turns back to the stove. “I only ever stress-bake when I can’t sleep, and, well.” He waves his hand in a gesture that Jesse doesn’t even _pretend_ to understand. “I know it’s weird, I’m sorry; I’ll try to be quieter, I promise.”

Something breaks in Jesse’s heart, he swears, and he’s moving before he’s even thinking to much about it, stepping forward to the sink and rolling up his sleeves. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Andrew turns to look at him and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Jesse replies, matter-of-fact, stepping over to the counter where the open recipe book is. “What are we making?”

“Jess,” Andrew says, tone brooking no argument. “You are not _seriously_ going to stand here and help me bake baklava at one in the morning.”

Jesse turns to face him, wearing his most determined expression, hand on one hip. “Yes I am, and tomorrow you’re going to explain to makeup why we both have bags under our eyes.”

Andrew’s face positively _lights_ up, and Jesse smiles back. And in that moment Jesse swears he can feel all the stress about tomorrow just melt away, inexplicably. Huh. Maybe Andrew has the right idea about this cooking thing. 

“Fine,” Andrew says, turning back to the counter where he’s working. They chat comfortably while they work, navigating easily in and out of each other’s spaces. After it comes out of the oven, they both retreat to their respective rooms, bidding each other a much more at-ease _goodnight_. 

//

 

In the morning, Andrew is already up when Jesse emerges, ready to go. "Morning!" he sings from the kitchen, bright and happy, humming something Jesse doesn't recognize. "Excited?"

Jesse sits down at the tiny kitchen table and tries not to groan. Or vomit. "Um, anxious?" he admits honestly, hoping it comes off as a joke. 

But Andrew sees the truth behind his words as he always does, frowning sympathetically. "Don't be, you're going to be brilliant. Stop worrying and have some breakfast." 

"Oh, I actually don't feel so great--"

"You'll feel better after you eat this," Andrew replies decisively, setting down a napkin with warm baklava right in front of him, and then returning a moment later with two mugs: one he sets in front of Jesse and the other he keeps for himself. From the smell alone he can identify that it's mint tea, the kind Andrew has made before on rainy days when they stay huddled up inside, cozy--and sure enough, when he turns to look out the window, it is drizzling miserably. Jesse doesn't know whether he should feel weird about being mothered or grateful for all of this, but he's leaning toward the latter. 

"Dessert for breakfast?" he asks, eyebrow playfully raised in Andrew's direction. 

Andrew smiles, pressing a finger over his lips like he's promising to keep a secret. "I won't tell if you don't." 

Jesse smiles and takes a bite. 

He drives them both to set in the car the studio got for them just like he’s been doing for rehearsals, another special arrangement they'd managed to work out. The silence in the air is thick, but this time it’s not anxiety but anticipation, a _good_ kind. Andrew puts everything at ease immediately, popping in a CD he declares to be “Mark and Eduardo’s soundtrack.” Jesse only recognizes one of the songs--it seems to be playing on the radio a lot recently--but it’s nice, easy to enjoy, guitar and banjo with clear and insistent vocals. They spend the entire time talking over it but they keep it turned up loud enough to hear, and most of their conversations revolve around arguing over whether a song is from Mark or Eduardo’s perspective and then groaning every time they hear a painfully appropriate lyric. The closer and closer they get, the more Andrew slips into his Eduardo accent, a sign of what’s to come. But somehow Jesse isn’t afraid. Here with Andrew, driving and talking, that seems impossible. 

//

There are days when they seem to get so wrapped up in character that it’s hard to shake, when Andrew looks at him with too much sadness in his eyes, or when Jesse looks at Andrew and feels a pang of inexplicable hurt. 

But it helps that they have a routine. Andrew cooks, sometimes bakes at night, and they still brush their teeth side-by-side in the too-small bathroom. It separates Mark and Eduardo from Jesse and Andrew, so much so that they can feel it knitting them back together. 

Jesse knows Andrew feels it too by the way he’ll sometimes pause right in the middle of what they’re doing, stop and hug Jesse from behind, arms tight across his chest. Jesse will give a little laugh and squeeze Andrew’s hand, feeling so grateful for it. 

And every once in awhile, to cope with everything, they will get drunk. 

There’s a balcony attached to the back of their apartment, and so they’ll sit out there with a few beers each and just talk, seemingly about everything and nothing all at once. It’s only in the mornings that Jesse awakes with the sinking feeling that he somehow shared too much, but it’s _Andrew_ , and somehow that makes him unable to regret any of it. Even if Andrew knows every in-and-out of his relationship with Anna or every bump in the road, and _all_ of his past relationships (which may not be too far from the truth, honestly), Andrew still looks at him like he’s the most wonderful thing in the world, and that’s got to be worth something. 

//

Everything about the whole experience is so incredible. The two of them are working with Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher, and that alone is enough to blow Jesse’s mind, but there’s also Justin Timberlake and Rooney Mara and Brenda Song and Max Minghella and Armie Hammer, an entire smorgasbord of talent Jesse can’t even think about for too long or he’ll start questioning why he’s there and that would be too much. 

Just... he can’t get over the fact that he gets to share this with _Andrew_. 

It’s like--it’s like doing something completely scary like... skydiving. Never in a million years would Jesse go skydiving. Ever. Making _The Social Network_ is like skydiving, which for Jesse’s purposes means, not half as scary as it should be. Because, if you’re going skydiving with one of the people you trust and love most in the world, what’s there to be afraid of? Instead of being overwhelmed with the panic of jumping out of a plane into thin air, it feels like walking into the comfort of his living room, with Andrew holding his hand. 

Everyone in production kind of gets that vibe from them, somehow. It’s always _Jesse and Andrew_ , very rarely is it just one or the other. Which may in part be because they’re always together on set; they both come to visit even on days they aren’t filming just to get a sense of what’s going on. Watching Andrew work makes Jesse want to throw himself into this ten times as hard, because he is so goddamn _talented_. He’s going to do amazing things. 

Anyway, their synchronicity comes in handy for filming. There are days that are so great Jesse can hardly believe it--the day they film the restaurant scene with Justin is the most fun Jesse has had working, possibly _ever_. It’s got a little bit of a montage vibe, so they get to just mess around for the most part, and so Jesse is. And no matter what he does, Andrew’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world: head thrown back, mouth open wide, laughing himself breathless. It’s infectious, because then Jesse is laughing too and soon Brenda and Justin catch it and they’re all useless, so Fincher has to call cut and give them all five minutes to calm down. But honestly, for someone who has a reputation for being intimidating, there’s something fond when he gives them a look, like he gets it, somehow. Like he knows the two of them need to hold onto this as tightly as they can, in this situation where it should be impossible for them to be as close as they are, where they have so much stacked against them. Jesse appreciates it. 

Then again, there are days where it is a hindrance. The closer they come to the end of filming, the harder it gets. 

Jesse doesn’t want it to end, and he feels fairly certain he can say the same for Andrew. At the same time, he’d be very grateful if they could get the _hard_ stuff out of the way--the smashing laptops and the waiting in the rain and fighting in a claustrophobically yellow hallway... Jesse could do without that. 

That hallway scene is one of the hardest things he’s ever done for a job, and he’s sure that a lot of that is because of how close he is with Andrew. They spend most of the day apart to stay in character, which just makes Jesse _sad_ , because Andrew is his anchor, his constant through this process. At least when they’re shooting he’s _in_ it, he’s Zuckerberg, but as soon as it’s over and Fincher says, “Cut, that’s it for the day... good work, guys,” he’s just gone. 

There is a fraction of a second where he and Andrew stare at each other, frozen. Andrew’s wearing Eduardo’s clothing and that makes it hard to look at him, like Jesse’s looking directly into the sun, but he’s deflated in a way that is all his own, absolutely _dripping_ with exhaustion. In his gaze there is this _anguish_ , almost grief, and Jesse has to go. He can’t look at Andrew when he looks like _that_. 

He races to wardrobe, changes out of his clothes as fast as he can and then hightails it back to his trailer. It’s only when he’s coming up the steps he hears Andrew calling his name, not far behind him, his voice still raw from all the screaming they just shot. “ _Jess_!” he calls, and Jesse turns around halfway up the steps to see him, running full tilt right toward Jesse. 

Jesse tries to respond but no sound comes out, his heart still racing too fast and breathing too quickly but feeling like he’s not getting any oxygen, every part of him shaking. Before he gets a chance to try again, Andrew is _throwing_ himself at Jesse and wrapping him up in himself, a tangle of arms and hands and hair and faces. “Jess,” Andrew repeats, and this time it sounds so _broken_ , so desperate that Jesse gasps, fumbling as he hugs Andrew back tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Together they count breaths until Jesse gains some shred of self-possession again, pulling away and croaking out “Yes” when Andrew asks if he’s okay. But Andrew’s still worried, so he drives the two of them home (which, it’s a sign of how fucked-up Jesse is about everything right now that that is the least of his worries), anxiously glancing over at Jesse every couple of minutes to make sure he’s still in one piece. But Jesse... really appreciates it, actually, to see the concern colored over every inch of Andrew’s face, to know that it’s not just him this is messing with. 

Andrew parks the car and gets out, running around the side to open the door for Jesse, who is still a little unsteady. Jesse stands, and Andrew silently offers his hand. Jesse looks up at his face, his expression so soft, and Jesse feels something inside him just _give_. 

He takes Andrew’s hand and lets himself be led, straight into their flat and then Andrew’s room without hesitation. Andrew pushes him down into the mattress and then curls up beside him so they’re facing each other, knees and foreheads pressed together. 

It is quiet in the apartment, and Jesse breathes. Andrew runs his fingers slowly through Jesse’s hair and breathes with him. They are so close already, but Jesse wishes he could burn away every inch of space between them so they could be this _one_ thing, just this once. Jesse closes his eyes, and Andrew hums the tune to a song off that CD that has become their staple, but slower, like a lullabye. The words bounce of the walls inside Jesse’s head. _My heart was never pure..._

Just as he drifts off to sleep, he feels Andrew press a fervent kiss to his forehead, and just like that, every remaining iota of Jesse’s restlessness disappears. 

//

So in some ways, Jesse is glad when filming wraps. 

But mostly, when it’s over, he kind of just wants to go back and start over. Or maybe stay here in this apartment forever, if that was an option. 

The wrap party is a good time, with everyone ranging somewhere on the scale from tipsy to drunk. David gives him a big bear hug and tells him he “fucking brought it, kid”, and not to let anyone tell him different, which, oddly, doesn’t even feel that awkward. Aaron plies him with beer after beer, going on and on about how Jesse was born to deliver dialogue at the speed he was born to write it, and there are hugs from all the cast members and a weird side-hug bro thing from Justin that Jesse doesn’t think he really pulls off at all, but tries to take in the spirit it was intended. 

There are speeches, and everyone compliments Andrew and Jesse as one on their hard work and dedication (Scott Rudin even calls them the “right-brain left-brain combination”, which earns instant applause that moves him to declare he’s “saving _that one_ for the Oscars!”). Jesse gives a speech that he doesn’t remember a moment of, but that makes Andrew press a hand over his heart and get a little teary-eyed, smiling up at Jesse with complete absorption. Jesse doesn’t remember very much of Andrew’s either, just the look in his eye when he thanked Jesse for his “talent, friendship, and heart.” 

When Andrew says it and they lock eyes, it is like all the oxygen is sucked out of the room, for Jesse. All that it leaves behind is this inexplicable magnetism, this sparking chemistry they have always had, and somehow Jesse knows Andrew feels it too. 

And in that moment, Jesse doesn’t want _any_ of this to end, not at all. Because he still hasn’t figured it out, hasn’t explored this with Andrew, and he has to be honest with himself and admit that he wants to. This is how it should feel in the _beginning_ , not the end, and it’s just so unfair and upsetting and he kind of wants to cry for so many reasons--some of them wrong, some of them right. 

After that, Andrew says a hasty _thank you_ and hands off the microphone, disappearing into a crowd of people. Jesse doesn’t follow. 

//

It’s not long before they leave, after that. They pack up the apartment that has been their home during filming, trying studiously to keep an upbeat tone to it all. Jesse gets it, he does. Something about being with Andrew in this place was kind of magical, but also inexplicable. It’s easier to act like this isn’t anything unusual, easier to act like this meant less than it did. 

When they’re finally ready to leave, Andrew looks at the floor and scuffs his shoe against the hardwood floor. “I’m not saying goodbye,” he declares stubbornly. 

Jesse feels a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay.”

His expression is immediately mirrored by Andrew, who looks up at Jesse and tries to suppress it by biting his lip. “We have all the press to do, plus you’ll have to hold my hand through the screening, and then _awards season_ \--”

“Oh my god, stop,” Jesse laughs, breaking away from Andrew’s gaze. Andrew’s grin breaks out, bumping his shoe against Jesse’s. 

“Whatever you say, future Oscar nominee Jesse Eisenberg,” he teases. Jesse rolls his eyes. Andrew is now smiling so wide his face must hurt, and it hits Jesse like a pang in the chest to realize how much he’ll miss seeing that every day. 

“Seriously Jess, I swear, it’s gonna happen. I would bet you _anything_.”

“Can we not talk about this? Let’s not talk about this.”

This time it’s Andrew’s turn to roll his eyes fondly. “Fine.”

They stand still for a moment, like neither of them knows how to navigate this part. And then something soulful slips into Andrew’s eyes, and he says, “Jess,” quieter than a breath, reaching forward and tugging on Jesse’s sleeve, pulling him into a hug. 

Jesse lets his arms go around Andrew immediately and instinctively, swallowing past the lump in his throat. It’s a quick hug--Jesse doesn’t let it linger. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Andrew says as they pull away, and Jesse has to blink fast, feeling silly--Andrew is _right_ , this isn’t the end, they’re going to see each other all the time in a couple months. But somehow, this still feels like an ending. 

“I thought we weren’t talking about that,” he replies, going for levity. His fingers fumble nervously with the edges of his sleeve. 

Andrew grins and it is actually _real_ , and that makes Jesse think that maybe this will all be okay. “I didn’t say ‘goodbye’, you complete tosser, I said I’ll miss you. It’s different, get your facts straight.” He looks past Jesse as he says it, reaching forward and tugging on one of Jesse’s curls, with makes Jesse’s heart skip a beat a little. 

“Me too,” Jesse murmurs, before he can think any better of it. 

And then they part. Andrew takes his bags and walks out the door, calling out, “See you around, Jess,” over his shoulder, and then it’s just Jesse standing in an empty apartment like none of this ever happened. 

But it did. 

//

 

_2._

“It’s just like old times!” Andrew crows as he stands at the stove, shaking his hips to whatever is playing tinnily on the little radio. Jesse smiles, a small upward curl of lips, and leans against the opposite counter, content to listen to Andrew hum as he cooks. 

Andrew’s only staying for a couple of weeks as he looks for an apartment in the city, something to live in while he does rehearsals for the _Death of a Salesman_ and starts some of the Spider-Man promotion. He also hadn’t wanted to intrude, so he’s only staying as long as Anna is visiting her family upstate for the summer (despite the fact that Anna had assured him he was welcome for as long as he needed, but Andrew insisted). Anyway, Jesse’s happy to have him for however short a time. 

Things aren’t quite the same, though, he can’t help but noticing. It’s little differences, mostly... The defined musculature of Andrew’s back instead of his previous characteristic lankiness, the way he has to borrow a hat when he goes out, to avoid the paparazzi, and, of course, Jesse’s cat. 

Andrew had teased him about it--fondly, of course: _Jesse, you have a girlfriend, whatever do you need a cat for!_ \--when he had come in dragging his suitcase and Tennessee had come barrelling down the hallway to curl around his ankles, tripping Andrew and sending him sprawling across the hardwood floor. Most people would be annoyed at such a welcome, but Andrew just took the opportunity to pluck Tennessee up and start cuddling with him, cooing and making faces that made Jesse bite down on his giddy smile. 

“Tennessee? Like the state or the playwright?” Andrew had asked after they’d been properly introduced, holding Tennessee above his head in both hands. 

“Playwright,” Jesse said, just as Andrew had gotten a mouthful of cat hair as Tennessee reached forward, padding at Andrew’s chin. 

Andrew had tipped his head back on the floor to see Jesse, grinning wide. “No surprise there, I suppose,” he said, happiness bright in his voice, and Jesse couldn’t help but grin right back. 

What with superhero movie training and all, Andrew is very careful about what he eats now, which is different. It isn’t important of course, and Jesse’s a vegetarian anyway, so really all it means is that they won’t be ordering any pizzas on Friday night like they used to do in Boston. It also means that Andrew has volunteered to do all the cooking. 

“As payment,” he asserts yet again, in that earnest way he always does. “Since you wouldn’t let me pay you outright; I have to earn my keep somehow,” he continues, a smile blooming softly over his features as he concentrates on the pasta sauce, eyes angled downward, lashes fanning softly against pink cheekbones. 

Jesse rolls his eyes as he approaches, spreading his hands against the countertops, leaning into Andrew’s space just a little in a way that doesn’t encroach on his personal space, but he can still feel Andrew’s body heat radiating, close. “You don’t have to earn your keep at all,” Jesse says for what feels like the thousandth time. “This one friend helping out another friend. Besides, I’m happy to have the company.” 

Andrew cocks one hip, shifting his legs so that his feet are angled, socked toes brushing Jesse’s. “Even with a cat?” he teases, smile still small and intimate but also strong, somehow. Almost brave. 

"Yes," Jesse says, hiding a smile behind his hand, "Despite his namesake, Tennessee has not yet proved to be a rousing conversationalist."

"More of the strong and silent type, I see," Andrew plays along as he chops some carrots for the accompanying salad. Jesse squirms his way in beside him, shooing him away back to the pasta and taking the vegetables into his own hands. 

Jesse nods, thoughtful, and continues chopping even as Andrew sneaks in to steal a carrot slice, popping it into his mouth with playful raised eyebrows and a mischievously curving grin. "Should've named him Clint Eastwood," he quips, and Andrew throws his head back and laughs. 

A passing thought enters his head, unexpected but unsurprising as he admires the long column of Andrew's throat. It still makes him shiver a little as it courses through him, taking in the brilliant gleam in Andrew's eyes. It's simple and familiar, making Jesse's heart thump wildly against his ribcage. 

_Beautiful._

But then Andrew bumps Jesse's hip with his own, warm and easy, and the moment kind of bowls Jesse over. Like déjà vu but stronger. 

_Yeah_ , he thinks to himself. _Just like old times._

//

Time seems to pass quickly with Andrew around, like now that Jesse's trying to memorize everything the universe is playing tricks on him. That's just Jesse's luck. 

Lots of things are the same. Andrew still drums his fingers when he's in the last twenty pages of a script, regardless of how shitty it is. He makes lattes on cloudy days, mint tea on rainy ones. When he can't sleep, he bakes--cakes, brownies, cookies, with enough banging pots and pans to wake Jesse up. He apologizes profusely when Jesse gets up to help, but Jesse just waves the apologies away and gets to mixing, or frosting, or whatever. 

Andrew seems to have lots of trouble finding the right apartment. Jesse can't really seem to figure out why... Andrew usually thinks everything is lovely and spectacular and perfect, so Jesse doesn't really get why he's so picky about his upcoming living space. He keeps asking everyone's opinions: Jesse's, of course, his realtor ad-nauseum, one time even the barista at the coffee shop they visit, holding up pictures while he waits for his drink. Jesse doesn't know what he's looking for, and it seems like either does Andrew. 

He calls Emma a lot. He _texts_ Emma a lot. Jesse tries not to be jealous. 

(He fails.) 

They still do a lot of the same things they always did together. The New York Times crossword, in pen, Andrew leaning over his shoulder and pointing at the boxes to help. He reads drafts of Jesse's plays, making thoughtful suggestions always accompanied by effusive gushing about the things he loves about it. Andrew shows him movies that it is apparently _vital_ Jesse sees before he dies, and when he's bored he somehow goads Jesse into telling him long, rambling stories _and_ makes Jesse do voices and sound effects. Hallie Kate and Jesse's mom both come to visit and Andrew cooks for them and is generally his super-charming self, and at the end of the night his mom kisses Andrew's cheek and says "Oh, I'm so glad you're visiting; I know Jesse's missed you so much--" before Jesse cuts her off and practically pushes her out the door, ignoring Hallie Kate's too-knowing gaze. 

Finally, Andrew finds a place. Funnily enough, it happens right near the end of his stay, which means that they still have a couple days together before Andrew leaves. 

They get drunk the last night. They've been drunk together in the past of course, but somehow everything feels heavier this time. 

Jesse thinks it's because they never really had a proper goodbye last time. They’d refused one, because after filming ended they knew there was still press to do, and after press it was awards season, and then after that they somehow managed to skate finality again, though Jesse can't quite remember how at the moment. 

The alcohol is bitter on his tongue but it's warming, which is nice, since Jesse is always cold, not to mention that it makes him feel sort of... loose. In a good way. 

They are both sitting on the couch--well, perhaps that is too generous. _Jesse_ is sitting on the couch, but Andrew is sprawled out, legs on Jesse's lap and hands clutching at Jesse's t-shirt, head pillowed on his shoulder. It's nice the way contact with Andrew always is, the way that doesn't make him overthink it or send him into a frenzy. It's just _easy_. 

(Besides, Andrew is always, _always_ warm. Jesse knows this from experience and appreciates it, trying to sneakily take advantage whenever he can, despite Andrew's entirely unmeant yelps of _Your toes are sub-zero temperatures, Jess!_ )

Right now, Andrew is trying to say the alphabet backwards in order to prove that he is _not_ drunk, thank you very much, but Jesse's pretty sure that "e" doesn't come immediately before "l". 

( _Fuck_ , they are so drunk. It is the kind they will regret in the morning: heads pounding, lights too bright, sounds too loud... but at the moment Jesse can't see himself ever regretting _anything_.)

He jumps a little when Andrew pokes him in the cheek, grinning. "Dimples," Andrew says by way of explanation, wiggling his fingers in Jesse's face, eyelids drooping, which only makes Jesse smile impossibly _harder_. 

"You have the most lovely dimples, did you know?" Andrew slurs, clumsily sitting up somewhat. 

Jesse laughs, shaking his head at Andrew's ridiculousness, just as Andrew reaches forward to grab onto to Jesse’s shoulder to avoid falling onto the floor. He manages to steady himself just in time and Jesse sighs, still smiling nonsensically, resting his head back against the back of the couch. 

"I'm going to go for it with Emma," Andrew says, _very very_ softly, and Jesse feels the smile slide off his face. 

There's only one thing that can possibly mean, and Andrew won't meet his eyes, peeling the label off his beer bottle like it requires all of his focus. 

They used to talk about Emma what seems like forever ago now, but then they just--hadn't. The subject just seemed to slip from their repertoire before they could notice, and now they only time they mention her is whenever Jesse asks jokingly who's texting Andrew so much. He always gets the same answer. 

He doesn't know when that subject got so awkward between them, but he has a strong suspicion that it has to do with all the feelings Andrew’s apparently having that is urging him to “go for it”. 

The worst part is that he wants to be happy. _Really_ , he does. This is his best friend talking about getting together with someone else he deeply loves and respects. What reason is there to be upset? 

_Except_ , his brain unhelpfully supplies. Except there is the close, comfortably broken-in way that he is with Andrew that he simply cannot get with anyone else. And he’s a little bit worried that adding Emma to the equation will screw it up. Logically, he knows it’s silly but... He can’t help but feel it. He loves Andrew, and he loves Emma, and he wants nothing but the best for them. But he doesn’t want to lose the small piece of Andrew he’s allowed, because it really is precious to him. 

Jesse swallows away all his doubts and nods, hoping it looks natural. “That’s--that’s good,” he stutters out, fingers grasping a little too tight around his beer bottle. 

“Yeah?” Andrew asks, all hesitant and slow, like he’s giving Jesse a second chance. 

But he can’t take it. 

Jesse can’t hold Andrew back like that, can’t prioritize their friendship above any romantic relationship Andrew wants to have. Because that’s all it is, a _friendship_ , no matter how special and unique it is to Jesse. Besides, for all he knows, this could be nothing more than a run-of-the-mill friendship to Andrew; maybe all he’s looking for is a simple “congratulations” and not Jesse’s actual opinion or advice. And at the end of the day, Jesse knows how much it must take for Andrew to even consider doing this. The breakup with Shannon was so hard for him, and Jesse should just be proud of the fact that he’s ready to try. 

“Yeah,” Jesse finally responds, all of his earlier giddiness wafting out of him like a popped balloon. “Yeah. I think you’d be good for each other,” he says honestly. “Emma’s great.”

“She is--she _is_ , isn’t she?” Andrew replies, looking down at the ground. From his tone, it sounds like he’s trying to convince Jesse just as much as he’s trying to convince himself. “She really is.”

“She is,” Jesse agrees, feeling something unidentifiable, heavy and melancholy, settle into his gut. He wipes his palms on his jeans and rises. “I’m happy for you both, Andrew,” he says, the words feeling a little too much like a lie for no reason at all. 

“Thanks Jess,” Andrew murmurs back, but Jesse is already heading to his room and closing the door behind him. 

Andrew leaves the next morning. Nothing about it feels right. 

//

 

_3._

The only reason Jesse decides to do the movie is because the script is amazing. At least, that's what he's going to tell the press. 

Because it's not like it isn't true... The script is without a doubt, amazing. But he's going to pretend that Andrew also being cast was a complete coincidence he knew nothing about. 

They're working with director Ang Lee on a project about Alfred Lord Tennyson and his best friend and fellow poet Arthur Hallam, the subject of one of Tennyson's most famous works, _In Memoriam A.H.H._ It is framed by Tennyson's 17 year journey to write the poem, but the majority of the story really focuses on the way their friendship grows and develops, its ups and downs. Andrew plays the young Tennyson and Jesse plays the young Hallam. 

To some extent it is true, because Jesse didn’t hear anything about who was attached beyond Ang until after he fell in love with the script. He was strongly considering doing it, he was. But then his agent mentioned offhand that Andrew was offered Tennyson and that was it. Jesse was in. (Though he hopes he seemed more nonchalant about it than he felt.)

It’s all well and good: he’s spoken on the phone with Andrew about it, who had been very vocally excited about the movie, as well as living together again, for the convenience of it all since Jesse lives in New York full-time and so does Andrew, now... that’s _all_ , an apartment of convenience (Oh God, it definitely sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. And maybe he is, okay; so what if he’s a little bit more attached to Andrew than he is to other people?). Well, he supposes he should call it a “flat”, since they’re shooting in England and all. 

And Jesse’s there--there are luggage bags wheeled into one of the rooms but not unpacked, because Jesse is much too busy pacing the hallway and worrying about seeing Andrew again. Yes, very productive. 

Just like that, there is a knock on the door followed by the sounds of it creaking open. “Hello!” a familiar voice calls, and something jumps inside Jesse’s chest and he freezes in place when he sees the sight of Andrew coming in, dragging three suitcases behind him. 

It’s just a split-second of stillness before Andrew’s face breaks into a radiant grin and Jesse’s rushing toward him before he’s even thinking about it--just advancing toward the door and throwing his arms around Andrew, earning a deep, rumbling laugh for his trouble and a hand clapped firm on his back. “I missed you too, Jess,” Andrew is murmuring in Jesse’s ear, and that’s what makes Jesse catch himself, pulling away and hoping that wasn’t too weird, but because the universe hates him he is unable to stop blushing furiously. 

“How are you; how’s everything? Spider-Man, New York, your nephews, Emma--all of it?” Jesse asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, stepping back a little but staying close. He can’t help it, he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. 

Andrew wheels his suitcases into the flat as Jesse peppers him with questions, an odd expression crossing his face afterward. Sort of like... suspicious but also intrigued, in a weird way? He turns to look at Jesse.

“The man I held as half-divine; should strike a sudden hand in mine, and ask a thousand things of home,” he recites, voice doing something funny. 

It’s a line from the poem, of course it is, but something in Jesse still quakes at “half-divine”. He digs his nails into his palms and tries to shake it off. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jesse replies, trying for an unmeant, disapproving frown but landing closer to grinning like a maniac, if the way Andrew responds in kind is any indication. "Is this what it's going to be like now, you quoting lines at me whenever they're the least bit relevant? I don't remember you quoting deposition transcripts to me, or did I block that part out?" he teases, grabbing one of Andrew's bags and helping him drag it to the empty bedroom. Andrew's grin widens. 

"Dunno," he plays along, shrugging. "Should call Carey, the two of you should start a support group about it. She can regale you with war stories from _Never Let Me Go_." Jesse sighs at him, good-natured and content, and Andrew jostles their shoulders together in a gesture that is both comfortingly fond and achingly familiar to Jesse. 

"Everything's good," Andrew finally answers as they make their way toward the kitchen. "Shooting the third Spider-Man was a bitch in terms of stunts and ADR, but everything else went well. New York is great--though I could stand to see you more often," he allows, squeezing Jesse's upper arm as he reaches to get a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and taking a sip. He wears an exhausted but gentle smile. 

"You're seeing me now," Jesse replies, fiddling with the hem of his button-down and not quite meeting Andrew's gaze. 

Andrew rolls his eyes back into his head, indulgent smile quirking his lips. "Yes, but I'd prefer not having to take a transatlantic flight to do it, Jess."

Now they're walking to the living room, Andrew collapsing onto the couch as Jesse determinedly fights off a blush, perching on the arm of the sofa. "Ben and the boys are good, and Emma..." he trails off, running his forefinger around the rim of the glass. 

"Emma?" Jesse prompts softly. He doesn't want to push, but he wants to know if Andrew wants to tell him. 

But it's gone just as soon as it arrived, and Andrew is shaking it off. "Nevermind," Andrew decides, pulling Jesse down on a cushion with a free hand. "But go on, tell me everything that's going on with you! Aren't you excited for this movie? It's going to be _brilliant_ ," Andrew says in an enthusiastic but also somewhat awed voice. He's plowing on before Jesse can get a word in. "It'll be so nice to be here in London, too, just like coming home again. I can show you around to all the best shops and take you for all the most fantastic meals and some weekend we can drive up to see my parents and I'll show you all my old spots; it'll be fantastic!"

Jesse feels a little bit like he has whiplash from that sentence, and also more than a little taken aback at the way he managed to slip in “meet my parents” and make it sound like something Jesse wants to do. He is not the meet the parents type, but he thinks he could be, for Andrew. He discards _that_ thought as quickly as it came. 

But he wants to do the rest of it so badly his chest aches with it. He wants to wander around the city with Andrew, aimlessly and without purpose, trading touches and quips and laughs. He wants to feel that same intimacy with Andrew he always craves, wants to feel it fast and bright while he can. He remembers last time, when their personal relationship got so entangled with their characters, nights made strained with character bleed. He wants to soak up all the normalcy while it’s still possible. 

“That sounds amazing,” Jesse says, smiling breathlessly, feeling very light. It really does. There’s also this half-formed idea that spending the day in London will, like... somehow, it will open Andrew up to him more. Like looking inside his head. 

Andrew smiles back, genuine and open. Jesse bites down on his lower lip and tries not to be too happy about all of it, everything about his situation right now. He’s not sure how successful he is. 

//

Everything is so different from the last time they made a movie together. 

Part of Jesse knew it would be like that, of course. For obvious reasons. This story is more about coming together, deepening rather than a slow splintering apart. Which means that his relationship with Andrew can breathe a little more. Ang is just as detail-oriented as Fincher, but in the complete opposite way: soft-spoken, subdued, emotional. He’s much more hands-off than David was, and gives them both a lot more space to work, as if somehow he knows they need it. 

It works well because for the film they need to really see each other as the other half of their soul, that there is no one else they could ever have the same bond with. It needs to be the two of them against the world. That’s how Ang explained it, anyway. 

So it really works that they’re sharing the flat, because it gives them time to get that much closer. 

It’s really a rare thing in life that what you imagined matches up to what you dreamed. But somehow it _does_ this time. 

They soak up London in spring on their days off. Andrew drags Jesse to all the sights first, and then they visit some of the lesser-known spots that Andrew loves... gardens and libraries and museums and shops and shows and restaurants, hidden away on winding streets, little hole-in-the-wall places that just radiate coziness. They walk close, shoulder-to-shoulder, some days sharing an umbrella if it’s raining, shoes splashing in the puddles. 

One weekend there’s some sort of location crisis, so they end up having to reschedule those scenes for a couple weeks in the future. They pounce on the opportunity to drive the four hours from London to Essex so that Andrew can visit his family. Andrew puts in a CD of a man singing softly over strumming guitar since there’s apparently the perfect song for the movie on it. “Think of the lyrics as something Alfred would sing to Arthur,” he says, and he’s right. It is perfect. Andrew sings along with every word, just loud enough for Jesse to hear. They talk over the rest of the album, but Jesse makes a mental note to ask Andrew to burn him a copy. 

Andrew’s parents greet him enthusiastically, all kissed cheeks and warm handshakes. They envelop Andrew in tight hugs, exclaiming about how long it’s been since they saw him and whatnot. Turns out that Ben happened to be visiting that day too, so he claps Jesse on the back to say hello and introduces him to his wife Alex and their twin boys. 

They all shuffle inside Andrew’s parents’ house, which is simple and feels comfortable, like home. Everyone wants to know how the movie is going and Andrew tells them, flushed with earnestness the way he always is, just bursting to talk about how good the script is and how great it is to be working with Ang and how soulful the movie will be and how _lucky_ he is to be working with Jesse again. Jesse tries to bite down on his ridiculous smile. 

It’s so far from expected, the way he immediately feels at home here. Alex asks him to hold one of the twins as she runs to the bathroom, and he does, laughing and answering as Harry (or Josh, Jesse forgets but he _thinks_ it’s Harry) asks him questions and tries to pull on Jesse’s curls while Jesse bounces him on his knee. He catches Andrew grinning at him so hard his face may split in half, and Jesse sticks his tongue out at him playfully in response, which makes Josh, (possibly--anyway, the twin Andrew is holding) collapse into giggles. Then later, Andrew’s mom pulls him into the kitchen for help frosting the cake, saying things like _Oh, Andrew always speaks so highly of you_ and _we’ve just heard so many good things_ like she’s in a competition to see how hard she can make him blush. Ben asks what it’s like working on a movie with Andrew when they come back and Jesse comes up with a bullshit answer about what a big head Andrew has, since he’s Spider-Man now, and everyone laughs while Andrew squeezes Jesse’s knee affectionately. 

They drive back to the flat after a flurry of fond goodbyes. Mrs. Garfield (though she insists Jesse call her Lynn) even sends them back with extra cake. Mr. Garfield claps Jesse on the back and says, “Good to meet you, son,” and Jesse shakes his hand while trying to surreptitiously watch Ben and Andrew say goodbye, because there’s something intriguing about the way Ben is looking at his brother, and the way Andrew is shaking his head with a wide grin in response, cheeks pink. 

The headlights cut into the darkness on the way home and Andrew sings along to the radio station (all throwback hits, making it sort of feel like they should be in a montage from an 80’s romcom) loudly, completely undeterred when he has to fumble along to the parts he doesn’t know, belting out nonsense. Jesse laughs so hard his stomach hurts by the end of it, and when they get back to the flat he swears he falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, happy and exhausted. 

The next day they shoot one of their hardest scenes: Alfred and Arthur’s last meeting before Arthur’s death. Jesse and Andrew spend most of the day apart, not wanting to have to lurch in and out of the emotional space they’re in. Jesse feels like he’s always catching glimpses of Andrew, and suddenly he looks exhausted--constantly running his hands through his hair and eyes bloodshot, like he’s been crying. Jesse’s heart breaks and he contemplates how backwards that is, right now... Alfred’s heart is supposed to be breaking for Arthur, not the other way around. 

It’s an emotional day. Their last scene together is happy--Arthur had spent Christmas at Alfred’s home, and they say goodbye with warmth--but it’s difficult, because underneath everything they both know where the story goes. _Dead unexpectedly at 22_ , Jesse keeps thinking, like it’s straight out of an obituary. Cerebral hemorrhage. Jesse can’t imagine. 

He can’t imagine losing Andrew _now_ and they’re 32, ten whole years past when Alfred lost Arthur. He can’t even think of it for too long before he has to force his mind onto something else, for his own sanity.

Andrew drives them home from set and as soon as they’re in the apartment he says, “Let’s get drunk,” and Jesse agrees, doesn’t think he’s ever needed anything more. 

They sit on lawn chairs out on the balcony and talk about everything and nothing all at once. They talk about _The Social Network,_ they talk about Alfred and Arthur, about Andrew’s family and Jesse’s, about pressure and its different forms, awards season, just... _everything_. 

And then they talk about Emma. 

Jesse stiffens immediately when Andrew mentions her, at first just in passing. His feelings on the two of them had always been complicated, despite how much he loves them both separately and the fact that he wants nothing but the most absolute happiness for both of them. But something about _Andrew_ and _Emma_ together had always made his stomach hurt without reason--whether from jealousy or fear of being left out and forgotten, he doesn’t really know. 

Jesse thinks the two of them were good, once. He remembers pictures, the first three years: the two of them walking around New York, smiling and laughing and kissing. They'd looked _happy_ , no other word for it. He hadn't really seen or spoken to either of them much then, just out of coincidence: it had been a pretty busy time in his own career. Jesse _had_ gone to see their movie, secretly, and even though he couldn't really follow the plot in some places he was blown away by the sheer force that was _Andrew,_ stunned but not surprised that even in a superhero summer blockbuster Andrew would find a way to be an emotional center, pulling everything else in the film together and just fall into place as if by magic. But the other half of that story was how indescribably weird it was to see Andrew kiss Emma, knowing that it that element wasn't far from the truth. It made Jesse feel kind of sick to watch, and strangely, vaguely lonely in a way that made his heart hurt. 

But now he knows that they're different. Not from articles or paparazzi pictures or anything like that, they just are. Jesse had been suspicious since Andrew didn't want to talk about Emma that first night, and the picture had only gotten clearer and clearer since then. 

There are the muffled noises of one-sided shouting matches on the other end of Jesse's wall, some nights, that he just _knows_ Emma is on the other end of Andrew’s phone but pretends not to know, not to hear. He never brings it up with Andrew. They sound angry and frustrated, and Jesse squeezes his eyes shut or puts in some headphones and tries not to think about it. 

Jesse's never had a relationship end like that, combust under it's own weight and implode upon itself. All of his have slowly turned cold, like the way the autumn weather creeps up on you when you’re not expecting it, until all the sudden there’s a bite in the air that signals the first frost. He can’t even imagine it ever happening like that with Anna, despite the fact that he’s been with her longer than anyone else. Everything about them has been easy, calm, soothing... even if he wasn’t with her, couldn’t see that element of their dynmaic changing for anything. 

Andrew talks about how frustrated he is with everything, not knowing where it went wrong and how to get it back. “I don’t know if... if it’s worth keeping, anymore,” he admits, and Jesse doesn’t know what to say. 

Jesse swallows, at a loss. Andrew’s looking at the ground so forlornly and Jesse doesn’t even know what the answer is. Does the hurt mean that it’s worth fighting for, or does it mean that it’s time to let it go? 

Somehow he doesn’t think Andrew is looking for an answer. 

Jesse takes a moment to chew on his lower lip. Andrew reaches out and curls his fingers lightly over Jesse’s wrist, running his thumb softly over the papery skin on its inside. Jesse feels his breath hitch and his heart ricochet wildly against his ribcage. The alcohol makes the words slippery on his tongue. 

“What do you think it was like, when Alfred lost Arthur?” he asks, words coming out before he can stop them. It feels like a non-sequitur in the flow of the conversation, and maybe this is Jesse’s beer-addled brain doing the talking here, but he _feels_ like it makes sense. There’s a connection, somehow, that he’s shooting for. He just can’t quite grasp it. 

Andrew stills for a moment, his fingers motionless against Jesse. “I dunno,” he admits, voice sounding almost wistful. “I’ve never... never felt like that with someone, you know? I don’t know if I--if I ever will,” he says, voice going a little wobbly at the end, shaking out of him like a revelation. His thumb starts moving again, slower this time, and his face is screwed up like he’s thinking hard. 

Then something certain settles onto his face, like he’s made a decision. His brow furrows and this _pang_ goes through Jesse to smooth it away, an unequivocal ache. 

“‘Terrible sting, terrible storm,’” Jesse murmurs, and a small, unsure smile slips onto Andrew’s face, humming the melody from yesterday (well, technically two days ago now). There’s an edge of sadness to it that makes Jesse sad too, but Andrew gives Jesse’s wrist a squeeze and he thinks maybe, somehow, he might have given Andrew what he needed. 

//

Jesse goes to set the day that Andrew’s shooting the scene in which Alfred gets the news about Arthur’s death. The way Andrew breaks down completely--gasping and sobbing and screaming, falling to the ground and pounding his fist on floor, shaking... Tears spring to Jesse’s eyes, hot and stinging, and Jesse has to press a hand over his mouth hard to avoid crying out. It’s physically _painful_ to him, to see Andrew like this, and it’s all he can do to avoid going over and pressing Andrew into his arms and holding him tight, just like Andrew did for him that night in Boston. 

He can’t help but wonder where it all came from, after their conversation. Andrew’s a fantastic actor, and obviously Jesse knows that more than most people, but he also knows from Andrew himself that his performances this deep have to come from somewhere. 

Ang calls “Cut!” and goes to check playback from all the different camera angles. Andrew picks himself up piece by piece, collecting himself and wiping at his eyes, taking shuddery rasping breaths. Jesse ducks off set to press the heels of his hands to his eyes, counting breaths and trying to calm down. 

It is only later that Jesse learns they did not need to do another take. 

//

Filming finishes up in May, and premieres are scheduled for late December. There’s this weird buzz going around already that it’s going to be Oscar bait, which kind of baffles Jesse’s mind a little bit. He and Andrew do a little bit of press for it before shooting finishes--interviews on set with magazines who want the inside scoop, that kind of thing--and everyone keeps saying _awards season, awards season_ in hushed tones. 

They both find it a little bit funny because it’s sort of like a flashback of _The Social Network_ , where everything had been brand new to them and no one would shut up about awards season and it had just been the weirdest feeling. On the other hand, it’s a little bit strange because the movie isn’t even _finished_ yet, so who’s to say anything. Something could go terribly, terribly wrong and then everyone who predicted they’d be on red carpets vying for statuettes would have to eat their words. 

At the end of the day, it’s an _Ang Lee_ movie, so that’s probably _not_ going to happen, but still. It makes all this speculation seem silly. 

The other thing they both learn is that when you interview about making a movie about a strong male friendship and Ang Lee is the director, you are subjected to a lot of _Brokeback Mountain_ jokes. 

That’s not a bad thing--every time someone references it Jesse makes sure to say how much he loved that movie, because it’s true, he did--it just gets _tiresome_ , like questions about whether they were Facebook friends or if he’d met Mark Zuckerberg. But some people raise their eyebrows and ask questions about “bromance” and Jesse guesses that it’s normal, even interesting to people, since they’re making a movie about two close male friends. It even makes sense to ask about it in regards to Jesse and Andrew, since they’ve made a movie together before. Jesse is trying to understand and not get upset about it. 

But the thing... the thing _is_ , every single time he answers with, _oh yes, we’re very good friends, of course we keep in touch, yeah,_ he feels like something in him screams. This whole situation is just making him confront everything about his relationship with Andrew and it’s making him anxious, honestly. 

When he finally gives in one night, lying down in bed and thinking about it, it’s much simpler than he expected. He has a crush on Andrew. He’s always known he’s been _attracted_ to Andrew, from the very beginning, but it’s always been this kind of unconscious, unattainable thing. The scary, unexpected part is realizing he wants _more_. 

Not that Jesse would ever make any sort of move to attain it, necessarily. He and Anna have a perfectly good relationship and they’re just as happy as any normal couple, thank you very much. And Andrew has--has Emma. Regardless of how well that’s working out, they’re still together. 

Just, having all these people stick their noses in his business and make thinly veiled innuendos about “bromance” and whatnot drives it all back up to the surface, and Jesse is perfectly fine not confronting those feelings. Because he knows that once it’s all over, he and Andrew will go back to what they always are... friends who occasionally see each other and sometimes even hang out. And Jesse will think of Andrew every once in a while, and he will miss him, but that happens, right? With anyone. 

(He pushes away the conclusion of how little he thinks of Anna when he’s around Andrew and feels more than a little guilty about it.)

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much words like “reunion” or “bromance” are thrown around, they’re just like any other pair of normal friends, and that’s all they’ll ever be. They’re not Mark and Eduardo; they’re not Alfred and Arthur. Just Andrew and Jesse. 

No matter what kind of indescribable pull or jumbled-up tangle of feelings Jesse feels for Andrew, it’s not worth screwing _that_ up. 

//

Mid-May they pack up the flat the day after the wrap party, boxing everything up and shipping it to opposite sides of the country: Jesse back to New York, Anna, and Tennessee; Andrew to L.A. to be with Emma while she finishes up filming some comedy with a bunch of famous people Jesse’s only heard of in passing (and Jesse tries steadfastly not to notice the grimace Andrew makes when he mentions it). They stay in the apartment one more night and then in the morning they clean everything else out, piling it into suitcases and making a mad dash for the airport. 

They walk together until they have to go in opposite direction, slowing and stopping. 

“Well,” Jesse says, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I guess this is it.” He didn’t really have time to think about it this morning what with all the rushing around, but now it’s hitting him. Here he is, saying goodbye to Andrew _again_ , and this time feels harder than it ever did. Which doesn’t make any sense, since there will be press and premieres and maybe even red carpets and award ceremonies in their future, but this is definitely the end of something. 

“Yeah,” Andrew says, not meeting Jesse’s gaze, toeing his shoe against the floor. Then all of a sudden he looks up, darting his eyes around for a second before taking Jesse’s sleeve and pulling him out of the path of traffic, off to the side. Jesse’s heart is beating _so_ fast. 

As soon as they’re out of the way, Andrew pulls Jesse in for a tight, desperate hug. Jesse can feel him let out a breath and does the same, curling his fingers tensely in the fabric of Andrew’s jacket. Then Andrew pulls back and Jesse disentangles himself, feeling his breath quicken as Andrew smiles at him, grin stretched wide and eyes bright. His expression is unsteady, like he’s barely holding onto this one, and his smile wavers until he presses his lips tight together and takes a deep breath. 

“‘The shape of him I loved, and love for ever: then flew in a dove and brought a summons from the sea...’” he quotes, one hand still firm on Jesse’s elbow. 

Jesse can’t help but laugh in response, hoping it doesn’t come out as watery as it sounds to his own ears. He wants to say something like, _I’m not dying, Andrew, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks_ or _go in the bathroom to try and get that character bleed out of your stupid perfectly-fitted flannel shirt that makes your arms look amazing when you push up the sleeves like that_ (okay, maybe not phrased like that exactly). But he can’t, because it’s the words, those _words_ that they’ve wrestled and held and lived for three months, read over millions of times in their scripts, and they hit him deep and settle into his gut and make the moment heavy in a way Jesse doesn’t want to break, can’t undercut with a joke. 

His voice cracks when he replies, eyes fixed on Andrew’s arm next to his. “The state of my heart, he was my best friend,” he murmurs back, hearing the accompanying notes in his head, and apparently it was the right thing to say since Andrew’s smile becomes a fraction more genuine at the words. He gives Jesse’s elbow a squeeze, and then jerks his head in the direction of Jesse’s gate. 

“Off you go then,” he whispers back, lips curling around the words and stepping away from Jesse, standing and waiting like he’s going to watch Jesse go. “I’ll see you in a month or so, yeah?” he asks, and Jesse nods jerkily, grabbing his suitcase and heading out. 

It feels abrupt, but Jesse doesn’t know if he could do or say much more without feeling like he’d completely given himself away, like Andrew could take one look in his eyes and see everything, all written out just for him. 

Jesse doesn’t look back--doesn’t allow himself the indulgence. Instead he focuses on moving forward, going back to his everyday life complete with his girlfriend and his real home, where he can forget about this stupid, childish crush. 

//

 

_4._

Jesse's pretty sure Andrew calls because he has no idea what else to do. 

His voice sounds hollow on the phone, stripped of it's usual variations. Like a bad impression of the real Andrew that makes his stomach twist with anxiety, all lifeless and monotone in a way that Andrew has _never_ been. 

"Can I come stay with you?" he asks, voice lilting up at the end for the first time in this conversation. The question is unsteady, the words shaking and crackling through the earpiece but is definitely not interference or static. "Just till I get back on my feet, Jess, I--" 

"Of course," Jesse replies quickly, without even considering any sort of alternative, before he can hear Andrew finish that sentence with _can't_ _be alone just now_. That might break his heart too much. "Yeah, Andrew, stay as long as you need."

It’s been two months and a few weeks since the whole racket ended for the awards season cycle ended for _The Twilight of Eternal Day_. The last time he saw Andrew was at the Oscars, where they both lost in their respective categories but Ang won Best Director, though neither of them were very broken up about it and saw it as inevitable, splitting the results for people who wanted to honor the movie (not to mention that Andrew already has an Oscar for _Silence_ and Jesse has a Tony, so they’re not worried). 

Besides, Jesse has nothing to lose, now. Well, apparently, neither of them do, since Anna is long gone (they broke up almost immediately after he came back from London as she met someone else, a perfectly nice guy she loves dearly with a passion she and Jesse could never quite reach; Jesse went to the wedding to see her flushed, beaming face and knew it was for the best, giving her the tightest of hugs in the receiving line), and if all the tabloids are anything to go by, so is Emma, though much more recently than Anna did (Jesse’s mother made a lovely date to the Oscars but Emma was there with Andrew, which is the timeframe Jesse’s working by). Jesse usually doesn't give those rags a second glance, but there are certain rumors that ring true, things that he's heard confirmed through mutual friends--Emma relocating to LA, permanently, photos of Emma and a sort of ruggedly-handsome but also very kind-looking guy that Jesse was informed was someone by the name of Ryan Gosling (Hallie Kate punched him in the arm for not knowing that he is apparently a movie star), walking too close and holding hands in a way that looks tentative and new but also intimate. 

And then there is the fact that Andrew flew to London for his father's funeral _alone_ , not to mention that he's calling Jesse of all people afterwards, looking for a place to stay. 

So why _shouldn't_ Andrew live here for a while; it's just Jesse and three cats at this point (Tennessee of course, but now also Truman and Arthur), and there's a spare bedroom that no one is using. Besides, it feels like it's been a long time since Jesse saw him, even though in reality it probably _wasn't_ that long ago that they ran into each other somewhere, on a red carpet or at a party or met up for dinner and catching-up. Regardless, and Jesse sort of hates himself for this a little bit, he knows he is sort of woefully pathetic where Andrew is involved. It _always_ feels too long since they saw each other somehow, and Jesse will snatch up any opportunity, even in less-than-ideal circumstances such as these. 

He shows up at Jesse’s door, a smile that seems too stretched, like he’s trying too hard. His hair is sticking up in odd directions, all over the place, like he’s been running his hands through it the way he does when he’s nervous or worried about something, upset. “Hey, Jess,” he says, and his voice is croaking, raw. His eyes are tinged with red, bloodshot, and Jesse’s heart _aches_. 

Jesse doesn’t think twice about it, moving on instinct. He steps forward and gives Andrew a tight hug, hands clutching at shoulderblades, chin pressed against Andrew’s shoulder, his collarbone. Andrew gives an exhausted laugh, drawing his hands around Jesse’s back and resting his forehead against Jesse’s shoulder, breathing out. 

They stay like that for a long moment, still, before Andrew finally whispers, “Should we perhaps get out of the hallway--”

“Shut up,” Jesse mumbles back, blushing furiously. “I’m not done hugging you yet.”

Andrew barks out a surprised, delighted laugh, and squeezes Jesse tighter, almost fierce. “Thank you, Jess,” he murmurs, voice sounding thick. 

Jesse nods against him, and it’s only a moment more and then they’re breaking apart. Jesse tells Andrew to make himself at home, and Andrew looks at him like that means everything. 

//

Jesse has to leave for a meeting with his agent a couple hours later. He feels bad about it, but Andrew assures him he’s tired from the flight and will most likely just nap in his absence. Jesse bites his lips and asks _are you sure_ about a dozen times before he gets a real smile in return, and Andrew shoving him out the door. 

The meeting is uneventful, and he spends most of it lost in thought as his agent hands him script after script that he should consider. He just can’t stop thinking about Andrew and the past three weeks he spent in England with his mom and Ben, how hard it all must have been; if Andrew’s general appearance and demeanor is anything to go by, it took a lot out of him. 

And then, to get on a transatlantic flight and come straight to Jesse? It just. He can’t make sense of it, somehow. 

Well, he gets it, he _does_ \--the whole needing someone thing; it makes sense. He just doesn’t understand why Andrew would pick _Jesse_. 

Jesse is not the kind of person you come to when you need comforting. When he was thirteen and Hallie Kate was four and she broke her arm, she had to wait over the weekend to get it set, so she had it in a splint for about 48 hours. Which meant that she spent most of that time on their living room couch, watching TV and crying on-and-off because the pain meds kept wearing off every four hours or something. And Jesse had been the worst person _ever_ at comforting her. He’s always been awkward at hugging in general (as evidenced by today’s hallway example), but he was even worse when he had to position himself in a way that wouldn’t bump her broken arm. Every time she cried, for some reason he was unable to do the easily reassuring _it’ll be alright, don’t think about the pain, go to your happy place_ kind of thing their mom was so good at, so he always just ended up rambling on about the Romanov family and the beginnings of the Russian Revolution until she managed to fall asleep. Jesus, when Anna broke up with him she cried the entire way through it, and all Jesse could do to soothe her was list all the hassles neither of them would have to worry about, now that they wouldn’t be getting married, and hey, Anna could finally get that apartment in Queens she loved so much with the whole bohemian vibe Jesse just couldn’t get behind fully. 

Long story short, it’s one of his more awkward traits. 

So on the way home he picks up soup from the nearby deli, because Jesse’s mom always made Italian wedding soup when he was young and had a bad day, and this kind may not be homemade but it’s pretty damn good. It’s a miniscule, tiny solution to a huge, gaping problem that isn’t going to be fixed anytime soon, but Jesse’s going to drive himself crazy if he doesn’t try and do _something_ to comfort Andrew, and this seemed like the most natural solution to him. Whatever. 

Except when he gets home, he hears a weird noise coming from inside the apartment. At first he assumes it’s the cats, until he opens the door and they all come rushing at him, same as always, but the sound is still happening. He goes to set the soup in the fridge, quickly, but once he’s inside fully he can identify the sound. 

It’s wracked, broken sobs coming from the direction of Andrew’s bedroom. 

Jesse tiptoes over, but the door is slightly open. He hovers there for a second, wondering if maybe the cats pawed it open and he’s eavesdropping on a very private moment--Andrew obviously didn’t hear him come in--but then he just. _Goes_. 

And finally it all makes sense. Because Andrew has always defied every expectation and precedent of behavior Jesse has ever experienced; he’s broken every rule and overcome every neurosis and awkwardness that’s faced them so far, so it makes perfect sense that this would happen, really. 

Jesse pushes the door open fully and there is Andrew, curled up on the guest bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and shuddering with the force of his cries, gasping and bereft. He hiccups a little when he sees Jesse, coughing and sputtering, but Jesse just shakes his head certainly and moves, lying down on his side next to him and wrapping his arms around Andrew from behind. 

Andrew pushes the pillow away, fumbling for Jesse’s hands and squeezing them hard when he finds them, like they’re the only thing he’s holding onto. Jesse presses his forehead against the top of Andrew’s spine and breathes, slowly, feeling Andrew start to follow suit, mimicking the rhythm of his inhale and exhale. 

Jesse’s not sure how long they lay there, but the cries taper off before too long and then it’s just the two of them, holding each other together. Andrew is still trembling in his arms like he’s going to shake apart and Jesse can’t bring himself to let go, so instead he just nuzzles the tip of his nose against the space between Andrew’s shoulder blades and feels his chest rise and fall, their hands still clasped together like they know no other way. 

The window on the opposite wall showcases the fade of bright yellow of afternoon into the golden tones of dusk, then the pink of evening, and finally the purple glow of twilight when Andrew’s breaths have evened out and his grip on Jesse’s palms have loosened in sleep. Jesse’s mind feels like it’s running in slow, hypnotizing circles. 

They never said one word to each other throughout this but Jesse has never felt more comfortable in his own skin. He thinks that maybe, just _maybe_ , he didn’t fuck this up too badly. That maybe there is value in just _being_ there, offering yourself up to be a firm, steady anchor to someone, when everything else for them is falling apart. 

//

Jesse has always been an early riser, and in the morning he gently entangles himself from Andrew’s limbs, padding out to the bathroom to shower, attempting to rid himself of that grimy feeling of sleeping the whole night in your clothes. 

As he’s changing in his room, he hears footsteps across the floor, and when he emerges he can hear the shower running on the other side of the bathroom door. He bangs around in the kitchen a little bit, busying himself making and eating breakfast (toast and oatmeal) and putting on the kettle. He must miss Andrew slipping out of the bathroom to go get dressed, because when he next turns around Andrew is standing at the edge of his doorway, looking a little uncertain. 

His hair is still wet in places, and sticking up rather wildly all over the place, but he's wearing worn looking jeans and a thick sweater, the sleeves too long, coming to his knuckles. With Jesse's gaze on him, he curls his fingers around the edges of the fabric nervously, like he needs something to hold on to, toeing his sock against the hardwood floor and chewing unconsciously at his lip. 

"Breakfast?" Jesse asks to break the silence, turning back to the stovetop to take off the kettle, which is about to whistle obnoxiously at them. 

Andrew shakes his head in Jesse's periphery. "Not hungry, thank you," and Jesse's not surprised, remembers his grandmother dying and everyone bringing casseroles and trays of sweets and not feeling like eating a thing, like he could survive on pure grief. 

Jesse shoots him concerned eyes--the kind that say _Alright, but you really_ should _eat something_ but do not push the subject too much--and then turns to grab a mug out of the cabinet above him. "Tea?" he calls over his shoulder. 

"That would be lovely, thank you," Andrew answers, walking over slowly and then leaning against the doorway to the kitchen as Jesse pours hot water into two cat mugs: one tabby and one Persian, both joke gifts from his older sister Kerri, and then plopping in a mint tea bag in each. 

He hands one to Andrew as he walks by, sitting on a cushion of the couch in the living room. Andrew follows, drawing his feet up underneath him to sit on the adjacent cushion, setting his mug on his ankles and wrapping both hands around it, a shiver wiggling through his body at the warmth. 

Carefully, Jesse tilts his head just a little to look at Andrew sidelong, just in time to see a small, shy smile break out across his lips. Andrew's head tilts a bit too, so that they are just barely looking at each other, and then he laughs softly and jostles their shoulders together. Jesse smiles back. 

And that’s when he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt. It’s not some undercurrent of attraction that’s always been there, and it’s not a frivolous crush that was ever going to go away after the tiniest bit of time apart. Maybe Jesse just _hoped_ it was one of those things, but it’s not. 

He is in love with Andrew. 

The revelation should shock him, but it doesn’t. He thinks that maybe he’s been in love with Andrew for a long, long while. 

It’s terrible timing, of course, but Jesse thinks if it weren’t for bad luck, he’d have no luck at all. 

//

 

_5._

Andrew calls in early November, saying that he's hosting Thanksgiving in a couple weeks and be wanted to invite Jesse. 

"It's just a couple of people," Andrew explains, "And Joe will be there, and Rooney and Max and Kate, and Carey and Marcus, and Keira, and Justin, and you'll get to meet Matt and Shai and Dane and his wife Anna--"

"Andrew," Jesse sighs, fondly exasperated but not at all surprised. "How did you convince all these people to come? Doesn't Keira live in England? And they're going to fly all the way out for your Thanksgiving dinner?"

"My disarming charm, I suppose," Andrew replies, smile in his voice. " _Pleeeease,_ Jesse? Please say you'll come; it wouldn't be complete without you."

"Is that how you convinced all those other people? Whining?" Jesse teases. 

Andrew sighs on the other end, and Jesse can perfectly visualize the pouting face Andrew’s making. “No, but they all agreed much more easily than you,” he explains, and Jesse laughs. 

“Of course I’ll come,” Jesse finally, the words coming out with breathless honesty that he hadn't intended, but can't bring himself to regret. 

"Oh," Andrew exhales, sounding bright and--and happy. Jesse didn't--he's heard Andrew happy plenty of times, even over the last period of time they were together, but it was so overshadowed by the hollow, sad, lost version of Andrew and just... 

"That's good, I'm. I'm really glad you'll come." He sounds like he means it, and Jesse feels his breath inexplicably catch. 

It doesn't make any sense. This is the same Andrew there's always been, but for some reason everything just feels thicker between them now. Jesse doesn't know quite how to explain it, even to himself. It’s like, he feels like everything counts for double, and he has to measure out everything carefully--words, touches, looks--and make sure to give them all equal weight. He wonders if Andrew’s doing the same, or if he’s just overthinking this as usual. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like it this time. 

//

Andrew calls the day before Thanksgiving, freaking out and insisting there’s no possible way he can get it all done for tomorrow, the meal will have to be cancelled and everything’s horrible and why did he ever attempt this disaster and so on. 

Jesse talks Andrew down from the metaphorical ledge, offering his help. Andrew tells him to bring his things and stay overnight, because, “Jesse, we’re going to be working into the wee hours of the night, here.” Jesse laughs and shakes his head, but does as Andrew suggests. 

When Andrew opens the door to his apartment, he has a swipe of flour high on his cheekbone and a light dusting of it in his hair, and a laugh bubbles out of Jesse before he can stop it. 

“Oh, stop it, I know everything’s a mess,” Andrew pouts, grabbing Jesse’s bag from his hands and ushering him impatiently inside, attempting to wipe away the smudge but on the wrong cheek. 

“No, no,” Jesse says, reaching up to place a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, steadying, and Andrew freezes, brows drawing together. Jesse bites down on a smile and Andrew’s lips quirk up, pleased, and then Jesse’s hand is moving without his consent to dust off the streak on Andrew’s cheek, soft against his cheekbone. 

Everything suddenly slows down for a moment, like they’re one of those bugs trapped in amber... everything around them light and golden, with Andrew looking at him soft like that, and Jesse has to clear his throat and step away to snap out of it. 

“I was just thinking what a good look that was on you,” Jesse quips, letting his smile widen into something brighter and watching Andrew’s do the same. 

He throws his head back and laughs, grabbing for Jesse’s hand and pulling him stumbling into the kitchen. “Come on,” he mumbles, fond, and then Jesse’s pushing his sleeves up and putting Jesse on chopping duty, cutting up vegetables for the stuffing. 

They make small talk while they work, only it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like the closest they’ve come to those rambling talks they would always have when they made dinner together while working on _The Social Network_. When Andrew stayed at Jesse’s place the first time, Jesse thinks they were trying too hard, not to mention the Emma thing that they just didn’t know how to navigate together. And then in London everything just felt too _different_ : a home of sorts, but not at all close to the one they’d had before. Finally, the last time, they had both been in very uncertain places, and weren’t so much worried about making things feel like home than just clinging to whatever little shreds of each other they could reach. 

Silently, Jesse thinks that the reason why it feels so familiar now is because they’re not pushing it at all: they’re just falling into it easily, like the most natural thing in the world. It makes Jesse’s heart soar, to be able to laugh at Andrew’s jokes and stories and not have to force it, to be able to speak and feel so free about it, no lingering self-consciousness. 

Time passes quickly without them even noticing it, and sure enough here they are in Andrew’s tiny apartment kitchen, cooking into the middle of the night and laughing like giddy teenagers. 

“I’m glad I called you,” Andrew says, in that soft and enthrallingly genuine way he always does, smiling privately down at the gravy he’s stirring, cheeks heating up a little, not meeting Jesse’s eyes. “You’re the best person to have in a pinch.” 

Jesse feels inexplicably embarrassed all of a sudden, and a little bit like he’s conned his way in here. He tries to laugh it off, light and breezy: “I assure you, I’m terrible in a crisis. I worry about every little thing and I broadcast it all to the world somehow, because despite the fact that I’m an _actor_ I’m a terrible liar in real life, and the whole thing is just not reassuring at _all_ \--”

“No, not like that,” Andrew sighs, stepping away from the stovetop to grab something from a high cabinet on the other side of the room, and then creeping up behind Jesse to rest his chin on the top of Jesse’s head, on tiptoe. “Because no matter what, you always make me smile,” he explains. 

There’s nothing else Jesse can do with that other than try to memorize it right then, fold it up into his heart and smile wide and bright straight ahead, where Andrew can’t see. 

//

Miraculously, they manage to get it all done in time for Thanksgiving dinner, in spite of Andrew’s apocalyptic cries. 

People troop in to Andrew’s apartment in what feels like droves. Jesse tries to help Andrew with the last few things in the kitchen, but Andrew shoos him out without even listening to his protests, smile on his face. 

Once he’s actually out there and socializing, it’s actually pretty nice. It’s great to see Joe again, who crows hello and throws himself at Jesse into a big bear hug and rambles excitedly on about his life, cracking Jesse up the whole way through. Justin throws the door open like he owns the place a little while later, his very nice wife Jessica in tow (and _wow_ , that kind of boggles Jesse’s mind that Justin is _married_ now, and not even in a “oh, look how far we’ve all come!” way but more in a he didn’t think that would ever happen _ever_ in this universe sort of situation), singing some song Jesse doesn’t recognize and grabbing Jesse with one hand and Andrew with the other, whining about how he can’t believe _two parts of the trio reunited without me, what’s up with that!_

There’s only so much of Justin Jesse can take sober, and it’s not a lot, so he slips out to grab a beer. Next Rooney and her sister and Max show up. He chit-chats a little with Max and Kate while they wait on everyone else to arrive, Max modestly accepting Jesse’s congratulations on the Oscar-- _not before your Tony though, mate_ \--and blushing so hard that Kate pinches him in the side and giggles. 

The best surprise of it all for Jesse is when Kristen and Rob show up, and Kristen’s eyes go wide like she wasn’t expecting him either, letting out an “Oh my _god_!” before rushing over to squeeze him tight, and Jesse is laughing like he can’t quite believe it while Andrew and Rob do some sort of odd bro-shake thing beside them. Kristen pulls him away to the couch to catch up, a little farther away where it’s quieter and honestly, more of both their scenes. Jesse’s cheeks feel hot with all this happiness and they chatter like old friends. 

Then a whole bunch of people arrive that Jesse’s never met before, but somehow it’s even wildly easy with them. Carey and Marcus are first. Carey wraps Jesse in a warm hug and says she’s heard all about him ( _Andrew just never stops talking about how brilliant you are, darling_ ) in a way that is very nice but does make Jesse a little embarrassed, before Andrew steals her away to the kitchen to have what appears to be a super-secret hushed conversation which appears to involve a lot of Carey looking good-naturedly exasperated. 

Jesse isn’t alone for long before Keira approaches him, introducing herself and offering Jesse her hand to shake, everything about her frank and forthright but so kind. She asks all sorts of inquisitive questions about Jesse’s plays and they somehow get into a discussion about interesting upcoming playwrights in the city. Jesse’s actually surprised at how long that conversation carries on, but Keira is the kind of person that is just completely engrossed when you’re talking to her, nodding and laughing and adding in all the right places. Their conversation is only interrupted when a guy Jesse only vaguely recognizes from subway posters cuts in, boinking one of Jesse’s curls in hello and reciting Jesse’s top five grossing films _in that order_. Keira laughs him off and introduces him as Matt and _not to bother, he’s always like this_ with an affectionate shake of her head. He talks to Matt about--well, something or other, but Jesse can't quite manage to get past bewilderment for the entire duration of the conversation. 

Andrew introduces him to Dane, who is inexplicably a little starstruck to meet Jesse and declares in something close to awe that _The Squid and The Whale_ changed his life (which makes Andrew beam beside him) while Jesse thanks him tries to do the math on when that movie came out because this kid doesn't look more than eighteen (though he's married too, somehow). 

Finally, dinner is ready, and Jesse is seated between Rooney, who kisses both his cheeks and makes him tell her all about how his cats are doing now, and Shailene, who Jesse has never met before but may well be the sweetest, friendliest person on the planet. She manages to strike up a conversation with him about the best vegetarian places to eat in the city, since she just moved to New York and is trying out vegetarianism, and manages to be completely unintimidating while doing it (which is quite a feat since Jesse finds most people intimidating, at least upon first meeting them). 

"Alright, alright," Andrew finally calls over all the different conversations, standing up from his seat at the head of the table and clinking his wine glass with his fork. "I'd like to give a little speech." Everyone quiets down quickly. 

Andrew seems shy all of a sudden, blushing a little bit at all the attention, but still collected as ever. 

"I'd just like to thank you all for coming... It really means so much to me to have so many people I love in the same room on Thanksgiving--"

"Oi, you're _British!_ " Rob bellows teasingly from the end of the table, which immediately makes Carey swat at him with her napkin. 

"Only half!" Justin calls playfully back, tipping his glass in Rob's direction with a smirk, which makes everyone laugh, before Keira hushes them all with a "Let the man finish his speech!"

Somehow this devolves into everyone chanting " _Speech, speech, speech_!", loud and clamoring and basically everything that Jesse usually would hate, only in this room surrounded by these people he can't feel anything but warmth. 

"Okay, okay," Andrew continues, and the room falls more or less quiet again. "I'm going to finish up and say that I hope you all enjoy the food, and thank you to the unsung hero who saved the day, with that--" several people shoot Jesse fond looks, "and let's all have a wonderful time!" 

Everyone cheers, and then Joe shouts from the corner enthusiastically, "Let's eat!" and everyone is immediately laughing and talking, passing dishes around and soon enough making exaggerated, borderline pornographic noises about how good everything tastes. 

It’s a meal full of easy conversation and laughter. Jesse has Thanksgiving with his immediate family basically every year, but this somehow... doesn’t feel that different. It feels like _family_ in a really strange way, even though he just met some of these people an hour ago. He feels surprisingly comfortable here, and not just that but he’s having _fun_. 

He can’t stop looking at Andrew throughout the whole thing. It’s almost like he’s lit up from the inside. His cheeks are flushed from the wine, and, to be honest, probably from laughter too--one time Jesse looks over Matt’s telling him a story that’s making Andrew laugh so hard that no sound is even coming out anymore, stomping one foot on the floor and slapping his thigh. Jesse doesn’t even try to hide his smile. Kristen catches him looking and subtly taps the side of her nose, eyes twinkling, much too knowing and somehow Jesse doesn’t _care_. 

Jesse is so tired of caring. He’s so tired of girlfriends and movies and moments that _almost_ become something greater and then somehow fizzle out. He’s just exhausted with feeling like he and Andrew are tiptoeing around this big huge thing that’s always been between them, getting bowled over by obstacles and challenges and words that never come, not to mention diving behind excuse after excuse after _excuse_. 

_The Social Network_ was six and a half years ago. That’s a damn long time, and Jesse’s probably been in love with Andrew for 75% of it (a lot of it unconsciously). He feels ready to dive in. He’s not even _afraid,_ even though maybe he thinks he should be. 

He hasn’t said anything in awhile, so Rooney nudges him with an elbow. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, brows knotted together, expression tinged with gentle concern. 

Jesse nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out, giving her a smile. “I’m good,” he replies. And then, with genuine honesty, “I’m really good.”

Rooney grins back, satisfied, and turns away again. Jesse’s eyes flit to the head of the table only to find Andrew already looking back at him, eyes and smile soft. He’s looking at Jesse like he is magic, and butterflies flutter in Jesse’s stomach. For some reason, he feels like they are back at the beginning. 

//

Everyone leaves around midnight in a flurry of hugs and kisses and goodbyes. Kristen gives him a look like _be careful_ and Jesse tries to remember it, giving her an appreciative nod. (Weirdly, Carey also hugs him tight before she leaves and whispers in Jesse’s ear--“Go for it, love.”) 

Once they’re alone, Andrew gives Jesse those wide Bambi eyes until he consents to staying (not that he had ever considered the alternative, not really). Still, he bargains that he will as long as he gets to help Andrew clean up before they head to bed--it seems silly, but it really will help Jesse sleep better. Andrew doesn’t laugh at this, his eyes just blaze with warmth and he smiles, slow and sweet. 

Perhaps they’re both a little too tipsy to be doing this; well, Jesse is tipsy but Andrew is _drunk_. Not excessively so, but just enough that his words are slurred and his cheeks are pink and he stumbles a little when he trips, hands flailing to catch himself, apologizing to the furniture that caused the whole mess. Jesse bites down on his lip to keep from laughing, but Andrew catches him, grins wide and asks _what?_ but Jesse just says _nothing_ with a bit of a giggle in his voice and then Andrew is tripping over his way, throwing his arms out for balance. Jesse catches his hands and helps him stay upright, and Andrew just laughs and laughs, resting his forehead on Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse can’t help but laugh along. 

He wants to say something. More than anything he wants to say something gut-wrenchingly _true_ , because it’s been six and a half years and Andrew’s still here. That has to mean something. The way they keep coming back to each other, like magnets--Jesse’s never had that. 

Sometimes it just feels like everyone’s leaving. Anna left, and Emma’s gone now, and so much has changed. But not _this_. 

“Jess,” Andrew sighs. Jesse can feel his breath through his shirt and suddenly he knows he can’t, not tonight. He doesn’t want this to be something Andrew forgets in the morning. They should both _remember_ , because he wants it to be permanent. Wants it to _stick._

“C’mon,” Jesse murmurs, unwrapping them but not letting go of Andrew’s hand, leading them both to Andrew’s bedroom. They tumble down on the bed together and kick off their shoes, shifting around on top of the covers until they’re both comfortable: one of Andrew’s arms slung across Jesse’s waist, Jesse’s face turned inward and his nose nudging Andrew’s cheek, gentle. 

Their breaths grow longer together, and Jesse thinks of that night in his apartment, holding Andrew until he could be himself again. As Andrew snuggles in closer, he thinks vaguely that somehow, they are doing it again. But maybe this time, they are both a little closer to whole than before. 

//

When Jesse wakes, Andrew’s eyes are already open beside him. He’s smiling at Jesse, morning-soft and pillow-close across the sheets. Jesse blinks a couple times to make sure this is real before smiling back, croaking out, “Hey,” voice rough from lack of use. 

“Hey,” Andrew replies, soft laugh in his voice, and in that moment everything he couldn’t stop thinking last night comes pouring out in the simplest, most honest way it ever could. 

“I’m in love with you.”

Andrew’s face breaks out into a grin, and Jesse grins right back, feels stinging behind the backs of his eyes and laughs. It feels tremendously _easy_ now that it’s out, like this is always where they were headed. It just took them a little bit of time to get there. 

Andrew slings an arm across Jesse’s waist, pulling him close, propping his head up on his other arm. “Since when?” he asks, voice dancing with playfulness. His hair is a mess from the pillow, sticking up all over the place, and the sun is streaming in all around him, almost giving him a halo in a way that makes him want to laugh until his stomach hurts. 

“Somewhere between the apartment in Boston, that time you recited Louise Gluck to me at dawn on our balcony after a twelve hour shoot, and when you stayed with me in New York inbetween places and the first thing you did was sprawl out on the floor to play with my cats." 

Andrew barks out a laugh, trailing his thumb down the knobs of Jesse's spine through his shirt. “You have cast enough light to make my thought visible again,” he recites again with a wobbly, intimate smile, and Jesse’s skin prickles with goosebumps just like it did that night. 

"Um," Jesse continues after a moment, looking down because he's already blushing embarrassingly red, "It took me a lot longer to figure it out, but. Yeah."

Andrew smiles at him, hopelessly fond for a long moment before replying, smug. "I've got you beat, then. Last day of rehearsals. We were in your car, and even though you'd only professed to listening to musical theatre and Ween, you somehow knew every single word to that Cat Power song and I was just _done for_."

Jesse laughs, quietly, and Andrew joins him, tangling his fingers in Jesse's curls. "Of course, I didn't know it until London. When I saw you off at the airport and just..." Andrew trails off, shaking his head but smiling. He runs his fingers gently through Andrew’s hair, soothing. “Well, that’s not true,” he admits in a whisper. “I always _knew_ , but that was when I realized I couldn’t let you go.” 

"Andrew," Jesse says on a shaky inhale, voice breaking in the middle. They have struggled so long under the weight of these realizations, much longer than was healthy for either of them. Jesse thinks of sleepless nights and coming home only to be wrapped into the wrong person's arms, dreams that were so sweet and seemingly so far out of reach they were painful. His heart hurts with the memory of it. 

"Shh," Andrew replies, pulling Jesse in and, for the first time, pressing their lips together. Jesse sighs into it, letting go completely. Andrew's lips are firm but gentle, making the kiss soft and hesitant. Jesse curls a hand around Andrew's shoulder and lets out a wanting sound into Andrew’s mouth, which makes him shiver. 

"Jess," Andrew exhales between their lips when he pulls away to breathe, eyes still closed but lips searching. He shakes his head just a little, like he can't believe this is happening either, and then again, " _Jess_."

"I'm here," Jesse replies as Andrew skims his lips over Jesse's jawline, his chin, his neck. "Andrew, I'm here," he chokes out, and thinks that maybe it's truer than anything else he's ever said. He is here, in so many ways, and Andrew is touching him deeper and better than Jesse has ever been touched, maybe because it means more. 

Andrew makes a needy, greedy assenting sound into Jesse's pulse point, reaching down with one hand to twine their fingers together, surging up to kiss him again. Jesse gasps into it and Andrew gives his hand a squeeze, and Jesse knows it means _I'm here too._

Jesse's fingers flutter at the hem of Andrew's shirt, wanting to pull it up and off but not wanting to break the kiss. Andrew catches on somehow and pulls away, grinning like the sun when Jesse whimpers and tries to follow with his lips. He pulls it over his head smoothly in a way that just makes his hair even crazier, and Jesse bites down hard on his lip to avoid laughing and ruining the moment. Andrew groans at the sight, putting his hands gently on Jesse's sides to roll them so that Andrew is straddling Jesse, ducking down to impatiently suck Jesse's bitten lip into his mouth. 

Somehow Jesse's shirt is next, without Jesse even consciously realizing it until it's on the floor by the bed and Andrew's careful, trembling fingers are spanning his ribcage. They're breathing hot into each other's mouths and this is simultaneously everything Jesse wanted and nothing like he imagined. Andrew is more... nervous (though that's not the right word) than Jesse really expected, and it's unexpectedly reassuring. It lets Jesse know that they're on the same page, that it means just as much to Andrew as it does to Jesse. 

"Off," Jesse mumbles into Andrew's mouth, for some reason utterly unable to beat the button on Andrew's nice black jeans. Andrew laughs breathlessly into it and raises up on his knees enough to undo the button and zipper while Jesse props himself up on his elbows to watch. He shimmies out of them in a way that is completely ridiculous and completely Andrew, in a way that should not be endearing but somehow _is_ , because Jesse is so head over heels in love with him. He shakes his head disbelievingly, because he really never thought he'd _get_ this with Andrew, but Andrew just grins and leans down to kiss both Jesse's dimples when he's done, nuzzling his nose into Jesse's cheek afterward in a way that makes it impossible for Jesse not to giggle. He can feel Andrew's wide smile against his skin and his heart thumping wildly in his chest, wonders fleetingly if it's trying to escape from all this excess of feeling but promptly decides that he doesn't really care. 

Especially when Andrew starts kissing him again. 

Only this time it is also _better_ because Andrew is fiddling his fingers under the hem of Jesse's jeans, and so Jesse quickly tips his hips up so that Andrew can pull them off. He makes quick work of them, chucking them rather enthusiastically over his shoulder in a way that would have been hysterically funny about three minutes ago but now is just _not_ \--feels ridiculously, stupidly hot instead, with Andrew in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, straddling Jesse's hips and Jesse in his own, running his hands distractedly over Andrew's superhero biceps and blushing collarbone and toned chest.

They're rocking against each other slowly, slowly, but just this simple friction is _so so_ good that it makes Jesse whine into Andrew's kiss, feeling the buzz of Andrew's responding groan on his own lips. He wants to keep going like this forever but also wants to stop as soon as possible, because otherwise he's going to come in his underwear like a gawky, awkward teenage virgin and he'll never forgive himself. 

"Do you have--um--" he stutters out and Andrew shivers all over, nods, and reaches over to the bedside table, wrenching open the drawer. He grabs a bottle and a condom, and Jesse has to breathe deeply when he sees them because he wants this so badly. 

Then Andrew's kissing down his body and pausing right above the hem of Jesse's boxers, looking up while he continues to kiss the skin beneath Jesse's belly button, nipping at it gently. Jesse nods madly--like his previous question wasn't permission enough, please--and Andrew pulls them down, right off his ankles and pushing them off the edge of the bed.  
Jesse's been with guys before, and Andrew knows that--remembers spilling it all to Andrew on one of those drunken nights during _The Social Network._ He doesn't remember the specifics of their conversation, exactly, but does remember explaining that Anna was more the exception than the norm. He has hazy memories of telling Andrew about losing his virginity at theatre camp to a guy, his one-time fling with Justin Bartha before they discovered they were better as friends. Anna was his only _public_ relationship, and he'd never cheated on her, but as soon as they broke up he went out and hooked up with a random guy he met at a club: a risky move that he was sorry for the next day, after having to inform his publicist in case of a possible leaked story, but not something he regretted. 

But it wasn't ever like _this_ , even when it was good. Because Andrew is working a finger into Jesse carefully and moans are falling unbidden from his lips, pink from cheeks to the planes of his chest. Andrew is looking at him like he's a beautiful, precious thing and kissing the skin of his ankle, then inner thigh, where his legs are drawn up. He adds a second finger and after a minute or so, brushes against Jesse's prostate in a way that makes him gasp, going loose and pliant under Andrew's touch. 

All the other times were rushed and frantic, needy, and this is no less needy but honey-slow, thick and heavy, and so damn good. It's like they've exhausted themselves of all their fumbling in the years trying to get to this that now it feels nothing less like the most natural thing in the world. 

“Andrew,” Jesse finally gasps when everything feels slick and open and _wonderful_ , one hand tangled in Andrew’s hair. “Andrew, god, just--”

Words are not enough, so he tugs hard on Andrew’s hair and pulls him up into a desperate, messy kiss. Andrew kisses back like he needs it just as much, whining as Jesse nips at his lower lip, eyes dark. “Fuck me,” Jesse breathes, and Andrew is nodding, biting at Jesse’s shoulder before disentangling himself to tear the condom packet open with his teeth. 

So Andrew rolls it on, making sure to coat it with another layer of lube and then he’s lining himself up, poised with one hand curling around Jesse’s knobby knee. “Ready?” he asks, shaking a little. Jesse just reaches up to tangle his fingers with Andrews and nods, relishing his full responding grin. 

He pushes in on one long, smooth thrust, and Jesse’s free hand fists in the sheets. “ _Oh_ ,” he lets out, mouth flying open and eyes going wide. Andrew stays still, giving Jesse time to adjust. Jesse takes a couple breaths and then chokes out, “ _Move_.” 

Andrew starts in slow, shallow thrusts that aren’t even _close_ to enough, but once he’s fully seated and can lean down to bracket Jesse with his arms, the angle shifts just right and Jesse groans, wrapping his legs around Andrew’s waist. 

“Jesse,” Andrew pants into his skin, running his hands over Jesse’s cheeks and chest and trailing down to squeeze his ass before settling on Jesse’s hips, gripping _just_ hard enough to bruise (Jesse flushes at the thought). Jesse nudges him forward with his feet, tipping Andrew’s chin up with one hand to kiss him. Andrew kisses lazily, like he has all the time in the world and he’s trying to memorize the shape of Jesse’s mouth. Jesse’s eyes are squeezed shut and he never wants to leave this moment where everything sounds and feels and tastes like _Andrew_ , because he honestly never thought he’d get to have this. 

Jesse’s fingernails leave white trails that quickly turn red down Andrew’s back, biting into his skin as Andrew massages his prostate on every other thrust. He’s letting out _embarrassing_ noises that he is much too far gone to care about, little whines and gasps and moans. Sex noises are stupid but Jesse thinks he would like to record the way Andrew’s breath catches when Jesse moves to kiss him, the way his whimpers trail off into a drawn-out sound that almost becomes a sob when Jesse clenches tight around him. 

“Wanted this...” Andrew manages brokenly, biting at Jesse’s earlobe. “ _Jess_ , wanted this for...” He trails off because Jesse knows what he’s going to say, wants to taste the words in his mouth, and turns his head for a desperate kiss. 

“Touch me,” he whispers into the space between them when they pull away, pushing his ass back to meet Andrew’s thrusts, clenching just a little. Andrew’s hips stutter and he’s shaking again, and they’re all tangled up together and they’re not even under the covers. Everything about this situation would usually make Jesse self-conscious, but right now he’s just-- _not_. It’s Andrew. There’s no point. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Andrew gets out, all in a whoosh, and manage to snake a hand between their bodies to circle around Jesse’s cock, working him in time with every push and slide, increasing speed, going faster and faster until Jesse feels like he’s getting the wind knocked out of him. He is so close, and everything is hazy and sparks are going off up and down his spine, probably in his _brain._ Then finally Andrew thumbs over the head of his dick and Jesse’s coming just like that, face buried in Andrew’s neck, letting out a soft whine. 

Andrew’s free arm goes around his back (his other hand still working Jesse’s cock but slower now, starting to be twitchingly oversensitive but Jesse is just as unwilling to let go), pulling him close as his thrusts lose their rhythm, faltering a little bit. “Love you,” Andrew chokes out again, sounding impossibly close, voice thick. Jesse can’t do much more than sigh in response, still shaking, and clench tight around Andrew, who comes with a surprised cry. 

Andrew lets himself collapse on top of Jesse for a moment before collecting himself and disposing of the condom. He rolls into Jesse's side afterwards, running his knuckles soothingly down Jesse’s ribs and breathing him in. 

With the post-orgasm lethargy starting to fade, Jesse tries not to panic. It’s just that-- _always_ , without fail, this has always been the part of sex, or relationships, or whatever, that he’s screwed up. The _after_. This is where all his angles seem to go sharp and his movements jerky and unnatural, the words come out fragmented and nonsensical, and his heart gets so tangled up in his throat he doesn’t even know how to feel anymore. 

But then, just as he’s turning the whole thing over in his head, Andrew presses an absent-minded kiss to his shoulder and then raises his head, smiling at him but with a little bit of lingering anxiety in his eyes. And, weirdly enough, _that’s_ what convinces Jesse. 

Because no matter what, this is still Andrew. This is the Andrew that knows Jesse through and through, who knows all about his overwhelming urges to worry about the smallest little things and has seen all his quirks, good and bad. He’s been inside Jesse’s head and could probably navigate it without a map at this point. And it’s been six and a half years, but he keeps coming back again and again and _again_. 

“Hey,” Jesse murmurs softly, reaching forward to tip Andrew’s chin up with two fingers. There is a quivering hope fluttering over Andrew’s face and through his eyes, and Jesse smiles. 

“I love you too,” he finally replies, and Andrew’s eyes go all warm and crinkly, apprehensive smile melting into something genuine. Not only that, but this is Jesse’s _favorite_ smile of Andrew’s. It is so wide that it makes him look about five years old, eyes bright, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. 

“ _Jess_ ,” Andrew exhales in that same shaky way that Jesse had earlier, still grinning, his eyes filling with tears. Jesse feels his own doing the same and something constricts tight in his chest in a way that he really hopes lasts forever. 

This time, it is Jesse’s turn to whisper back, “Shh,” and pull Andrew in for a kiss. 

Somehow he knows. They’ll be fine. 

After everything, there is no other possibility. 

//

 

_+1._

“Andrew Russell Garfield, tell me right now why you need these bright red skinny jeans before I burn them.”

“ _Burn_ them?” Andrew gasps, snatching them out of Jesse’s hands. “My, Jess, doesn’t that seem a bit excessive? Why wouldn’t you just throw them in the Goodwill pile like the others?” He clutches them close to his chest like they are beyond value, face colored with fake affront. 

“They are _bright red,_ Andrew. The fashion police be after you before you know it, and then you’ll be locked away and I won’t be able to visit you because I’ll have to get another three cats to help me deal with the loneliness,” he replies, playing along as he tries to sort through the rest of the box. 

Andrew grins at him, plopping down next to him on the floor, rolling up his sleeves and pulling out clothes. “It’s not as bad as all that. You’d be able to visit.”

“You don’t know that,” Jesse continues, refusing to tear his eyes from the mess of multicolored clothes. He knows if he does he’ll just be charmed by Andrew’s eyes and it will all be over. “My heartbreak might be too unbearable to visit.”

Andrew pouts, nudging Jesse’s knee with his own. “Not even for _conjugal_ visits?” Jesse finally cracks a smile at that one, looking up to roll his eyes fondly. Andrew grins, bouncing closer to wrap his arms around Jesse’s neck and claim a victory kiss, which quickly turns longer than Jesse had planned. 

He finally pulls away, which does make Andrew pout for a moment before Jesse pulls the red pants in question out of his lap to examine them. “Seriously, though. Why the pants?”

Andrew shrugs, resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder and sighing a little. “I dunno. I like them. Plus, it’s that pair I was wearing that first time we met back up outside that bookstore, what was it?" he explains while Jesse runs his thumbs in careful circles over the brightly colored fabric. 

"McNally Jackson," Jesse answers immediately, lips quirking up in a small smile as he thinks about how far away that was. How far away it _all_ was. And how sometimes, when he least expects it, that same rush of dawning affection will just crash down on him out of the blue when he sees Andrew now, the same way it had that first time after seeing him in so long. It hits at random moments now, like when he comes home and Andrew’s asleep in his bed, or when Andrew will hold his hand through one of his plays, sitting next to him in the front row. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, putting them in the pile to keep with a little smile. He sees Andrew catch it in the corner of his eye but he doesn’t say anything, just smiles back and looks at Jesse sidelong, like he can’t quite believe they’re here either. 

//

They’ve been dating for a little over a year now. That makes seven and a half years since _The Social Network_ , and it’s hard not to think of all the milestones they’ve overcome since then. Two breakups for Andrew, one for Jesse, one reunion movie, a Tony for Jesse and a total of four ( _four!_ ) plays he's written that have been put on, Andrew’s Oscar for the Martin Scorsese movie, four _Spider-Man_ movies, three cats Jesse owns and at least five more he’s fostered, the addition of Andrew’s niece to the family, and Hallie Kate's engagement, just to name a few. 

And now, another home. 

The decision to move in together was a long time coming. Andrew had come out more or less after his breakup with Emma in _Out_ magazine, which heralded _A Bisexual Superhero!_ in a way that kept the world buzzing for a month. And then Jesse had come out with their relationship, which was probably the most low-key announcement of a celebrity relationship ever (all they had to do was kiss in Central Park, just close enough that paparazzi got a good shot, and then confirm everything in an interview on _Ellen_ ; though their publicists had not been happy with them). So that aspect of the situation was startlingly easy to handle, along with the fact that both their apartments still held memories of other relationships that neither of them particularly wanted to live with for the foreseeable future, which had led them to talking about finding a place together. 

But really, what made the choice so easy was the fact that they both knew the other was in it for good. Ever since that first day, Thanksgiving a year ago, there’s been no question in Jesse’s mind that he and Andrew were forever. Sure, they have squabbles and arguments and fights and annoyances just like any other couple, but there was nothing that Jesse could possibly imagine that would ever convince him to give Andrew up, as long as Andrew wanted to stay. It took them so long to get to each other that they don’t plan to waste another moment apart. 

They’d found a nice place in Chelsea that they’d both immediately fallen in love with. It has a nice, spacious kitchen for Andrew, built in bookshelves for Jesse, a master bedroom, a guest bedroom, two baths, and a study that they’re planning to convert into a room for the cats. It’s room to grow into but also small enough to be cozy in a way that had been just what they were looking for--though moving all their stuff in and settling down was much more of a challenge than either of them had honestly expected. 

Now Andrew’s talking--though whining might be more accurate--about possibly getting another cat ( _Jesse, you got to pick them all and name them all yourself; it’s not fair and I want a chance!_ ) and trying to pick a follow-up project to _Spider-Man_ by wading through a giant stack of scripts, while Jesse’s simultaneously shopping around his latest play ( _multiple theaters_ are interested, which blows his mind more than a little bit) and in talks for the latest Paul Thomas Anderson film. And that’s not even counting the fact that when Fincher called to congratulate them once their relationship was public (about four months ago), he said he was in the early stages of a project that he’d love for them to be involved in. Nothing’s more of a throwback than that. 

Jesse's sure that so much more will change in another year and that there will be somehow _more_ going on in their lives, no matter how impossible that seems at the moment. He thinks that this new apartment is the perfect place for it all to happen, because it feels like home in a way that doesn't even make them try. And honestly, he can't wait. 

// 

Andrew still bakes in the middle of the night. 

Only now it isn’t the clanging of kitchenware that wakes Jesse, but the dip in weight as Andrew crawls carefully off his side of the bed, the curious mewing of the cats as he slips out of the room. Jesse tries to go back to sleep, but it isn’t working tonight for some reason or another, so he pads out to their kitchen, running a hand through his tangled curls. 

“You didn’t have to get up,” Andrew says, stirring the batter for what Jesse recognizes as rugelach as he frowns. Jesse hums, noncommittal, taking the mixing bowl gently out of Andrew’s hands, which are trembling just a little bit. 

He busies them immediately, getting to work on the filling. “What are you stressed about?” Jesse asks after a couple of moments of silence. Andrew doesn’t respond but doesn’t bother denying it, either--they both know each other too well for that. He just shakes his head, looking down in concentration. 

"Nothing. Everything," he decides after a moment, a manic laugh tacked on the end of his response. He scrubs a hand over his face and through his hair, pushing off the stove with both hands to stand in the middle of the kitchen, a little unhinged. An unspecific knot of worry curls into Jesse's stomach. 

He sets the bowl down carefully and steps over, slow. Jesse reaches up to hold Andrew's face in his hands, tipping it upward. "Hey," he says, apropos of nothing but with eyes full of concern. He doesn't have to say the words for Andrew to know that he is ready to listen when Andrew is ready to explain. 

Andrew's eyes churn and blaze as he worries at his lower lip, searching Jesse's face. Then he exhales, harsh, tipping his forehead forward to rest it on Jesse's shoulder, Jesse curving a palm around the back of Andrew's neck. 

"D'you remember that scene in the movie," he begins, words mumbled against Jesse's shoulder but not inaudible, "the one where I had to break down and cry because Alfred had just lost Arthur?" Andrew fits his hands around Jesse's hips, warm and possessive, and Jesse nods, still silent. 

“It was _you_ I was thinking of,” Andrew breathes into his collarbone, words hot and insistent. “I couldn’t--can't _stand_ the idea of losing you.” 

He is speaking so softly, and Jesse’s eyes are stinging as he runs his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Andrew’s neck, swallowing hard. He remembers that performance, remembers it _vividly_ , remembers how much it tore him apart. To know that Andrew was thinking of him--thinking of losing _him_ \--is almost too much. “Andrew,” he sighs, the knot in his chest loosening at the words. 

Andrew straightens, untangling himself and standing on his own but with his hands still on Jesse’s hips. “I don’t want to,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to _ever_... I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Jesse reaches up to bracket Andrew’s face with his hands. “You won’t,” he says, voice breaking on the words, cracking with emotion, meaning it _so_ , so much. He thumbs Andrew’s cheekbones and thinks back on the most important moments in his life. None of the others had him standing in the middle of a darkened kitchen, making rugelach at three in the morning and sharing anxieties in his pajamas, but somehow, none of them can match the genuineness of _this_. 

Andrew takes a deep breath, grabbing Jesse’s hands from his face and squeezing them, and then dropping to one knee. 

“Promise?” he asks. 

Jesse stands stock-still for a moment, absolutely frozen. Andrew is smiling tentatively up at him, holding his hands, which are shaking, and Jesse can feel his tears start to fall. 

“Wait, wait,” Andrew says all of a sudden, reaching in a drawer to pull out a little velvet box. Jesse claps one hand to his mouth to hide his absolutely ridiculous smile. Andrew opens the box and then there is a ring gleaming in the darkness, and Jesse can barely breathe. 

“ _Andrew_ ,” he says, the world trembling on his tongue, eyes overflowing with tears and all of it is just so outrageous--they’ve only been together a year, they _just_ moved in together, he can’t, _they_ can’t, it’s just not possible...

“Yes,” he says surely, more certainly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Andrew gasps out a watery laugh and stands, drawing his arms around Jesse and pulling him close and then they’re both laughing and swaying a little, completely high on the moment. Then he kisses Jesse, fierce and brave and tender, and Jesse knows he made the right decision. 

It has been so long. He has been in love with Andrew for so, _so_ long. Together they have seen life and death and so many relationships pass them by, and this has always been what they’ve come back to, more than anything else. Screw perfect timing--they’ve _never_ had that, why should this be any different? What matters is that they love each other, and they’re going to do that for the rest of their lives. 

They pull away and Jesse can see that Andrew is crying too. Jesse laughs, wiping away the tears from his cheeks, and nuzzling his head right underneath Andrew’s chin, content to let Andrew wrap him up in his embrace. He feels so _light_ inside, so incandescently happy, and he breathes out slow, half-forgotten words coming back to him. 

“But if the starry courses give no eminence of light to me, at least together we may live, together loved and loving be,” he whispers into the darkness, feeling Andrew’s arms tighten around him, his lips drop a kiss to the top of Jesse’s head. 

He knows Andrew knows it’s Arthur’s poetry without even having to check, knows it from the catch in his breath. “I’d recite something from the beginning back to you, but I don’t know if Eduardo Saverin ever said anything particularly romantic, even in our script," he answers, a tearful smile in his voice, and Jesse grins so hard his face hurts. 

"No imagination," he sighs jokingly, feeling Andrew's chest rumble with a laugh. 

“Maybe Mumford & Sons, perhaps? Wasn’t _Sigh No More_ our go-to album at the time?”

Jesse laughs. “I forgot about that,” he replies softly. He is struck by how sometimes those days can seem so long ago, and other times they can seem like just yesterday. Today, somehow, it feels like both... easily accessible but also softened around the edges, blurred with time. 

“‘Love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears,’” Andrew recites, swaying the two of them a little. Jesse steps his socked feet lightly on Andrew’s, like how little children dance with their parents, humming along. 

"Well, now you’re just a copycat,” Jesse says, tipping his head up just in time to see Andrew throw his head back in a laugh. It makes Jesse blush a little when Andrew meets his gaze again, to be the subject of all the bright affection it holds, to see how happy Andrew is and know that it’s all because of _him_. He has to turn away a little bit, pillowing his head on Andrew’s chest again, directing his gaze around the living room as they continue to dance slowly. “Also, don't think I didn't notice that you got out of this whole thing without saying the actual words."

Jesse's entirely kidding, honestly, he couldn't care less. He’s marrying Andrew and that’s the most important thing, of course. But suddenly they stop spinning around the room, and Andrew tips Jesse’s chin up with two fingers, eyes brimming with feeling. 

“Marry me,” he whispers, a shaking seriousness to the words, as if Jesse hasn’t already given his answer. 

Jesse reaches up on his toes and kisses Andrew once, quick and sure. “Always,” he answers, close. He pulls back and they smile at each other giddily for a moment before they return to making the cookies, smiling and talking and laughing, planning their futures in the middle of the night. 

They stay up til dawn, and when it’s a reasonable hour they call their parents and their siblings and their best friends, eating rugelach fresh out of the oven with milk all snuggled up on the couch, letting the cats curl around their ankles. When Jesse kisses Andrew he tastes like cinnamon and sugar, like love, and his arms constant and warm around Jesse feel like the best home they’ve ever shared. 

 

//

_the end_

**Author's Note:**

> The strong friendship between Alfred Lord Tennyson and Arthur Hallam they shoot a movie about is a real thing that we talked about in one of my English classes! The poem Tennyson wrote about Hallam's death is [here](http://www.online-literature.com/donne/718/), and [this](http://archive.org/stream/poemsarthurhenr00hallgoog#page/n110/mode/2up) is the poem Hallam wrote that Jesse quotes at the end. 
> 
> [Here](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse/187/4#!/20607267) is the Louise Gluck poem that Andrew quotes. 
> 
> The album that they declare Mark and Eduardo's unofficial soundtrack is _Sigh No More_ by Mumford and Sons, and they quote "Sigh No More" and "After the Storm" from that album. Additionally, the song that Andrew says is something that Alfred would say about Arthur is "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Are Out to Get Us!" by Sufjan Stevens. And, the Cat Power song that Andrew's briefly references at the end is "Sea of Love". And lastly, the title is from "Lake Winona" by The Careful Ones. All of these (and more!) are available on the [fanmix](http://wardowedidit.tumblr.com/post/56451486032/make-your-home-with-me-in-my-arms-fic-mix).


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